Fishmd^vifliaBGigr 

THE  TALE  OFAREJUVENATION 


GENERAL 
.lERARY 

INlVtRSlTY     Of 
CALIFORNIA 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2008  with  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/fishingwithboytaOOhulirich 


u 


r 


1  • 


V*^ 


%^' 


k^    . 


^      ^ 

^     •* 


Fishing  with  a  Boy 


The  Tale  of  a  Rejuvenation 


By 

LEONARD  HULIT 


rrewASTsrip: 


ONCJJNATL  U  S.  A. 


CINCINNATI 
STEWART    KIDD   COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,  1921 
STEWART  KIDD  COMPANY 


All  Rights  Reserved 
Copyright  in  England 


^55 


Z 


DEDICATION 

To  Joseph  B.  Cawthorn,  whose  genial  comradery 
on  ocean^  lake^  and  stream^  extending  through  many 
yearSy  has  been  an  inexpressible  delight^  and 
whose  love  of  fishing  is  exceeded  only  by  his  devo- 
tion to  his  friends  and  his  "art"  which  has  earned 
for  him  the  soubriquet  "The  Man  of  a  Million 
Smiles"  this  volume  is  dedicated. 

The  Author. 


ivi8;589l4 


INTRODUCTION 

In  introducing  this  character  sketch  of  the  boy 
"Matt"  to  the  pubHc  no  attempt  has  been  made 
to  have  it  appear  an  ambitious  work,  but 
rather  the  simple  tale  of  a  red-blooded  country- 
boy  who  knew  fish  and  fishing  far  better  than 
school  books. 

It  was  his  misfortune  to  be  orphaned  early  in 
life,  so  his  subsequent  training  devolved  entirely 
upon  his  "Aunt  Mary,"  who,  while  a  rather  stern 
disciplinarian,  keeping  him  within  wholesome 
bounds,  still  was  never  unduly  severe,  and  who 
took  a  perhaps  pardonable  pride  in  attributing 
his  virtues  to  what  she  termed  her  method  of 
"bringing  of  him  up." 

That  his  love  of  the  wild  things  of  the  woods 
and  waters  was  intuitive  must  be  believed  from 
his  habit  of  searching  out  for  his  own  delectation 
many  of  their  mysterious  ways  while  at  a  very 
tender  age. 

And  while  unlettered  and  uncouth  in  many 
ways,  he  was  respected  throughout  the  com- 
munity in  which  he  passed  his  life  as  an  exponent 
of  uncompromising  integrity. 

Mr.  Woodhull,  when  the  writer  first  knew  him, 
was  an  anaemic,  broken  man,  due  to  over-zealous 
attention  to  business  matters,  who  built  back 
rapidly  to  health  and  vigor  through  the  effects  of 

5 


INTRODUCTION 

open  air  and  sunshine,  found  in  his  rambles  with 
the  lad  over  woodland  and  meadow. 

While  their  stations  in  life  were  widely  di- 
vergent, yet  there  grew  up  between  them  a  last- 
ing attachment  and  affection. 

The  lad's  aptitude  for  acquiring  knowledge 
was  not  confined  to  the  living  things  he  met 
with.  Trees  and  plants  were  the  subjects  of  his 
continual  investigations,  and  he  had  the  quaintest 
of  expressions  in  readiness  to  evolve  his  ideas  of 
their  ways.  In  fact,  a  veritable  "Natty  Bumppo" 
of  later  days,  and,  like  his  prototype,  he  loved  the 
solitude  of  the  forest,  and  in  later  life  spent  much 
of  his  time  in  such  haunts  in  quest  of  its  wild 
inhabitants. 

He  devotedly  cared  for  his  Aunt  Mary  during 
the  remaining  years  of  her  life,  his  traps,  gun, 
and  "fishin'  pole"  being  important  factors  to 
that  end. 

While  most  of  the  fishes  discussed  in  these 
chapters  are  of  the  humbler  varieties,  still  they 
are  important.  Vastly  important  to  the  legions 
of  oncoming  youths,  who,  if  in  their  turn  will  lend 
attentive  ear  to  the  call  of  the  "pond  and  brook" 
and  learn  the  lessons  so  plainly  portrayed  on 
"nature's  chart,"  will  not  only  become  stronger 
and  better  men  because  of  it,  but,  as  Matt  would 
say,  "You  alius  know  things  better  when  you 
find  'em  out  yourself." 

Many  of  the  photos  are  of  the  territory  over 
which    the    boy    rambled    and    fished.      The   old 

6 


INTRODUCTION 

home  is  much  the  same  as  when  the  boy  lived 
there,  excepting  the  fact  that  it  has  been  shingled 
in  recent  years.  The  old  grapevine,  as  can  be 
seen,  rambles  over  most  of  the  entrance,  and 
seems  as  vigorous  as  in  the  old  days. 

If  the  perusal  of  these  pages  causes  increase  in 
the  love  for  the  great  out-of-doors  in  the  breast 
of  youth,  then  the  writer  will  feel  content  and 
continue  to  "go  fishin.'  " 

Leonard  Hulit. 


FOREWORD 

Leonard  Hulit  has  performed  a  real  service 
to  a  multitude  of  anglers  by  giving  permanent 
form  to  his  delightful  story  concerning  the  fishing 
exploits  of  the  boy  Matt,  which  has  been  appear- 
ing in  recent  numbers  of  Forest  and  Stream. 

Every  fisherman  holds  in  his  memory  the  keen 
joy  he  experienced  when  as  a  boy  he  first  learned 
the  secrets  of  the  brooks  and  ponds,  and  this 
story  of  Matt  Buckley  will  kindle  anew  the 
smouldering  fires  of  youthful  enthusiasm.  The 
affairs  and  responsibilities  of  life  soon  crowd  out 
the  happy  emotions  that  were  born  when  life 
was  young  and  all  the  world  a  wide  field  for  ex- 
ploration. It  is  good  to  ponder  again  the  things 
which  we  now  know  were  the  true  inspirations 
from  which  have  sprung  all  that  we  can  view  in 
our  lives  with  durable  satisfaction. 

Matt  Buckley  and  his  xA-unt  Mary  were  real 
characters  who  lived  in  a  country  that  is  familiar 
to  Mr.  Hulit.  The  vestiges  of  that  time  are  gone, 
but  the  quaint  ways  of  the  boy  and  the  shrewd 
but  kindly  qualities  of  the  aunt,  so  charmingly 
described  by  the  author,  still  live  in  the  memory 
of  those  who  knew  them. 

Matt  was  known  throughout  the  countryside 
for  his   ready  wit   and   straightforward  honesty; 

9 


FOREWORD 

they   were   attributes    that   endeared   him   to   all 
with  whom  he  came  in  contact. 

In  the  present  book  Matt's  observations  on 
the  many  strange  things  he  sees  in  nature  and  his 
whimsical  manner  oi  interpreting  them  are  an 
ever-present  delight.  His  ways  of  fishing  were 
devised  from  his  own  experiences,  and  are  there- 
fore full  of  originality.  The  Mr.  Woodhull  in 
the  story,  whose  rejuvenation  is  so  pleasantly  ex- 
emplified by  the  author,  is  a  true  likeness  of  one 
who  renewed  his  just  and  equable  poise  from  close 
contact  with  the  health-giving  precepts  of  out- 
door life  under  the  tutelage  of  a  sane  and  happy 
country  boy. 

In  writing  this  story  the  author  has  drawn 
from  his  own  fund  of  information  on  fishing, 
based  on  his  observations  of  the  habits  of  many 
of  our  fresh-water  fishes,  and  his  conclusions  are 
eminently  sound.  While  the  book  will  undoubt- 
edly have  a  strong  appeal  to  the  younger  genera- 
tion of  anglers  because  it  treats  of  the  ways  of 
youth,  yet  the  old  and  experienced  fisherman  will 
find  many  things  of  interest  within  its  pages. 
The  story  is  woven  upon  a  solid  framework  of 
practical  instruction,  as  the  author  has  brought 
to  his  work  that  masterful  knowledge  of  his 
subject  which  he  has  gained  from  many  years  of 
angling  experience. 

John  P.  Holman, 
Managing  Editor  Forest  and  Stream. 

New  York,  March  7,  1921. 
10 


CONTENTS 

Page 

A  Rejuvenation _---       15 

Cattie  Fishing   ----------       24 

Catfish  Philosophy      - 34 

Ways  of  the  Perch      --------      47 

Catching  and  Spearing  Suckers      -     -    -     -      64 

Bobbing  for  Eels  and  Selling  Frogs    -    -     -      79 
Bobbing  for  Eels    ---------       89 

Fishing  for  Carp  and  Crappies       -     -     -     -     103 

Tales  the  River  Told  to  Matt        -    -    -    -     118 

Crabs  and  Crabbing ---129 

Mysteries  of  the  River     -------     140 

Fly  Fishing  for  Striped  Bass     -----     150 

A  Storm  on  the  River -     -     161 

Unexpected  Joys    ---------176 

Reflections  and  Incidents     ------187 

The  Leopard  of  the  Lake 195 

Randolph  Jones     --- 205 

II 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

"Matt"  Hearing  the  white  bridge  in  quest 

of  "catties"      _      _      -      -      Frontispiece 

Facing  Page 

At  the  extreme  headwaters  a  bridge  crossed 

the  stream        ___-_---       26 

The  boy  sat  reflectively  digging  his  toe  into 

the  bank      ---------       44 

Aunt  IMary  and  Matt  in  warm  discussion      -       50 

A  farm  scene  along  the  "Manasquan"         -       64 

The  end  of  a  perfect  day         -----       96 

"Please,  Mr.  Adams,  don't  let  me  lose  him," 

pleaded  the  boy     -------116 

A  quiet  vale  miles  above  the  camp    -     -     -     124 

Inspecting  the  hamper  while  Matt  foraged 

for  wood      _---_----      128 

Mr.  Woodhull  returning  to  camp      -     -     -     174 

Mr.  Adams  waded  out  for  a  cast       -     -     -     176 

The  two  men  idled  their  time  away  over  a 

slough  above  camp      -     -     -     -     -     -     182 


J 


Fishing  with  a  Boy 


CHAPTER  I 
A  Rejuvenation 

It  has  been  aptly  said  that  it  is  not  all  of  fishing 
to  "catch  fish."  Equally  may  it  be  said  that  it 
is  not  all  of  "catching  fish"  to  catch  the  more 
important  varieties. 

The  writer  would  not  for  a  moment  decry  the 
glory  of  capturing  salmon  or  trout,  nor  the  battle 
with  the  sturdy  black  bass  when  it  is  done  with 
appliances  which  are  the  last  word  or  thought  of 
the  tackle  maker's  art. 

And  who  will  ever  aptly  tell  the  supreme  satis- 
faction the  angler  feels  when  with  deft  hand  the 
pHant  split  bamboo  lays  the  delicate  silk  line  and 
single  gut  leader  with  delusive  fly,  light  as  a 
thistle's  down,  at  the  exact  spot  on  the  distant 
pool,  to  be  snapped  up  by  a  glorious  creature 
springing  like  a  sunbeam  from  the  depths,  to  be 
finally  creeled — a  victim  of  fine  tackle  and  fine 
art?  Indeed  such  "finesse"  may  be  embodied  that 
the  wielder  of  the  rod  may  have  spent  untold 
hours  debating  with  an  equally  enthusiastic  fish- 
erman as  to  whether  he  should  fish  up  or  down 

15 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

stream,  and  sustaining  his  argument  as  a  zealot 
might  in  defense  of  his  religion. 

All  this  is  very  well,  and  no  criticism  is  in- 
tended, but  what  of  the  man  who  "goes  a-fishin'  " 
who  knows  nothing  of  technique  and  has  but 
little  wealth  to  bestow  on  equipment?  If  a  trout 
takes  his  hook,  well  and  good;  it  is  unceremo- 
niously taken  from  the  element  of  its  life  and 
strung  on  a  willow  sprout,  to  be  joined  later  by 
some  humbler  species,  perhaps  perch  or  the 
despised  brook  sucker. 

And  who  is  there  to  say  with  emphasis  or  con- 
clusion there  is  no  touch  of  technique  here? 
Just  one  of  the  many  troubles  of  life  may  have 
sent  the  man  to  the  brookside.  Ill  health  or  busi- 
ness cares  may  be  his  lot  and  surcease  of  these 
his  object.  Crude  may  be  his  outfit,  but  one  may 
notice  the  brightening  eye  as  he  selects  his  pliant 
birch  or  maple  pole. 

Poise  and  balance  may  not  be  as  perfect  as  in 
the  expensive  article,  but  here  we  are  confronted 
by  the  mastering  fact:  the  man  by  his  look  shows 
he  is  completely  satisfied  with  his  selection.  How 
much  more  can  one  have  than  that?  The  man 
knows  the  spot  he  will  try:  down  in  the  old 
meadow  where  the  freshets  of  years  have  washed 
out  a  wide  and  deep  pool  at  the  foot  of  the  old 
maple.  It  has  been  several  years  since  he  visited 
the  place,  and  his  quick  eye  takes  in  the  fact  that 
some  of  the  top  branches  of  the  old  tree  show 
signs  of  decay. 

i6 


A  REJUVENATION 

He  heaves  a  sigh  of  satisfaction  at  the  thought 
that  all  nature  travels  in  the  same  direction,  and 
that  he  is  not  an  exception.  Experience  in  the 
past  has  taught  him  that  he  may,  if  his  luck  is 
with  him,  take  any  of  several  varieties  of  fish. 

Trout,  as  well  as  pickerel,  have  been  taken 
there  in  the  past  by  him,  but  it  is  best  to  never 
count  on  such.  Commoner  fish  are  always  more 
to  be  expected,  and  with  that,  too,  he  is  satisfied. 
Oh  the  satisfaction  there  is  in  being  satisfied!  As 
he  pushes  his  way  across  the  open  meadow  a  bed 
of  buttercups  smile  up  at  him,  and  he  pauses  a 
moment  to  look  at  an  industrious  bee  drinking 
among  the  petals  of  the  flowers. 

He  falls  to  wondering  where  the  hive  of  the 
workers  may  be  and  who  may  enjoy  the  delicious 
sweetness  the  coming  winter  when  the  bee's  labor 
is  done  in  wax. 

Would  the  gold  in  the  buttercups  be  deeper  or 
the  bee  more  industrious  if  the  man  carried  a 
fifty-dollar  bamboo  rod  or  was  costumed  in  the 
latest  type  of  waders  and  other  garments?  Would 
the  summer  breeze  which  floats  in  from  the  adja- 
cent hills  be  more  delectable  to  one  than  to 
another? 

A  red-headed  woodpecker  is  drumming  mo- 
notonously on  the  tree  as  the  man  goes  under  it, 
and  he  stops  and  is  amused  at  the  undulating 
flight  of  the  bird  across  a  neighboring  field.  He 
falls  to  wondering  w^hy  only  birds  of  this  family 
have  that  queer  way  with  them  in  their  flight. 

2  17 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

Nature  is  pulling  at  his  heart  strings,  and  he 
doesn't  care  whether  his  fishing  pole  costs  fifty 
dollars  or  not. 

As  he  sits  down  on  the  grass  by  the  side  of  the 
pool  he  notices  that,  while  the  current  causes 
dimples  to  come  and  go  as  in  the  days  past  on 
the  surface,  the  stream  does  not  seem  so  wide  as 
when  he  was  last  there,  and  he  falls  to  wondering 
if  the  clearing  up  of  the  woodland  above  should 
have  caused  the  change. 

He  begins  sorting  out  from  a  promiscuous  lot 
the  hook  which  will  best  suit  the  work  in  hand. 
It  is  not  even  gut  snelled,  just  a  common  hook, 
with  ring  into  which  to  tie  the  line,  but  it  has  given 
him  good  service  in  the  past,  and  fish  have  not 
changed  their  habits,  he  mentally  argues. 

Not  even  a  painted  top-float  was  in  his  kit — 
just  a  big  bottle  cork  was  all  he  brought,  and 
then  he  had  not  made  a  hole  through  it,  but  his 
way  of  earlier  days  was  still  with  him,  and, 
sharpening  a  stick,  he  pushed  it  through  the  cork, 
first  from  one  end  and  then  from  the  other,  until 
the  spongy  substance  gave  way  and  at  last  an 
opening  was  made  through  which  to  pass  his 
line. 

So  absorbed  was  he  with  his  work  that  he  was 
fast  forgetting  why  he  was  there.  He  was  "just 
fishin'  "  and  happy. 

The  droning  of  the  bees  aloft  through  the  tree 
was  soothing  to  his  tired  nerves,  and  the  deep 
shade  a  comfort.    Across  to  the  west  in  a  swamp 

i8 


A  REJUVENATION 

a  lot  of  crows  set  up  a  noisy  cawing,  swooping 
in  and  out,  and  the  man  saw  a  hawk  sitting  in  a 
tree,  and  it  called  to  his  mind  many  such  scenes 
he  had  witnessed  when  a  boy. 

Such  matters  had  almost  escaped  his  memory. 
Then  he  began  wondering  why  and  when  the 
enmity  between  the  crow  and  hawk  began,  and 
he  almost  forgot  the  cork  float  on  the  water.  He 
looked  in  time  to  see  it  disappear,  and  the  old  im- 
pulse to  jerk  quick  and  hard  was  with  him,  but 
he  thought  better  and  tightened  well  on  the  line 
and  found  a  fish  was  hooked.  His  pliant  birch  at 
last  threw  the  victim  out,  which  flopped  on  the 
grass  just  as  it  had  done  when  the  man  was  a  boy. 

"Catfish,"  he  said  aloud.  "Well,  why  not?" 
Gingerly  he  took  up  the  fish,  well  remembering 
what  that  set  of  spine  rays  at  the  sides  and  at  the 
dorsal  fin  could  do  to  the  hand  if  carelessly 
handled.  It  was  not  a  large  fish  and  not  really 
small,  just  the  average  size,  and  the  man  wondered 
how  many  like  it  he  had  taken  from  the  same  pool 
when  as  a  boy  he  had  fished  there. 

"Gee,  Mister,  are  they  bitin'?"  said  a  voice, 
and  the  man,  half  startled,  looked  up  to  see  a  boy 
very  like  himself  when  of  the  same  age.  One 
trouser  leg  was  rolled  up  to  the  knee,  the  other 
was  down  to  near  the  ankle;  a  much-faded  shirt 
and  a  straw  hat  which  had  evidently  been  in 
contact  with  a  bumblebee's  nest  completed  his 
make-up.  There  were  freckles  a-plenty  on  his 
nose   and   cheeks.      He   carried   a    tin    can    with 

19 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

worms  in  it  in  one  hand  and  a  maple  pole  in  the 
other.  The  man  greeted  him  pleasantly  as  he 
approached. 

The  boy  turned  the  fish  over  carefully  with  his 
toe  and  said:  "There's  plenty  of  'em  in  here,  an* 
they'll  bite  better  to'ards  night,"  then  seated 
himself  cross-legged  on  the  grass.  The  man  and 
boy  were  friends  from  that  moment.  Silently 
the  boy  impaled  the  worm  to  his  liking,  and  the 
man  noticed  how  nicely  he  adjusted  the  cork  on 
the  line  so  that  the  baited  hook  would  just  clear 
the  bottom. 

"No  novice,  that,"  said  the  man  mentally.  He 
noticed,  too,  that  the  maple  pole  was  carefully 
decorated  by  stripping  the  bark  clean  in  sections 
of  six  inches,  then  leaving  the  bark  on  for  two 
inches,  and  so  on  to  the  end.  "Seems  though  we 
might  have  a  shower,"  remarked  the  boy,  as  he 
removed  a  pumpkin  seed  from  his  hook  and 
looked  around  at  the  sky,  "'Twon't  hurt  nothin', 
can't  get  much  wet,  and  the  fish  will  bite  better. 
This  old  maple  is  a  heap  of  shelter  when  it  rains." 
The  man  saw  the  boy  was  inclined  to  be  talk- 
ative and  he  encouraged  him.  "I  lost  an  ol' 
whopper  pike  here  last  week,"  he  continued. 
"Was  tired  catchin'  sunnies,  so  I  cut  off  the  belly 
of  one  an'  left  the  fins  on  an'  went  skitterin'  right 
there  by  the  spatter  dock,  an'  smack  he  took  it 
an'  most  jerked  me  in.  Gosh!  I  bet  he  would 
weigh  most  four  pounds,  mebbe  five."  Then  the 
man   made   a   mental   note    that   the   belly   of  a 

20 


A   REJUVENATION 

sunny,  with  fins  left  on,  was  a  good  lure  for 
pickerel. 

There  was  action  almost  all  the  afternoon  for 
both  boy  and  man.  While  no  record  fish  were 
taken,  still  it  was  "fishin',"  as  the  boy  put  it, 
and  the  man  was  enraptured.  The  catch  was 
mostly  "catties,"  as  the  boy  called  them,  with  a 
sprinkling  of  sunnies  and  a  few  perch.  Toward 
evening  the  man  tried  the  sunfish  lure,  after  the 
boy  had  trimmed  it  down  for  him,  and  succeeded 
in  getting  a  vigorous  strike  from  a  pickerel,  but 
did  not  hook  it.  "Hook's  too  small,  that's  why," 
said  the  boy,  "like  mine  t'other  day. 

"When  you  go  after  them  birds  you  want  a  big 
hook.  They  got  a  mouth  just  like  a  goose,  only 
bigger,  an'  when  you  hook  one  you  best  boss  him 
in  fast  as  ever  or  off  he  goes.  It's  one  thin'  I  don't 
like  about  this  hole:  you  can't  never  tell  just 
what  will  take  holt,  an'  what  you  ain't  fixed  for 
is  what  most  like  will  come.  What  I  most  like 
is  to  know  what  you're  after  and  then  fix  for  'em. 

"Say,"  he  exclaimed,  "there  was  a  feller  stop- 
pin'  over  at  Doane's  house  last  season,  and  he 
fished  all  over  here.  He  had  a  pole  'bout  like  a 
straw  an'  long  as  ever.  One  day  he  took  two 
good  trout  down  by  the  gravel  bed  below.  He 
had  'em  when  I  got  to  him.  Gosh!  I  don't  know 
how  he  done  it — he  used  feathers,  flies  he  called 
'em,  an'  no  worm  on  'em. 

"He  didn't  take  no  more  after  I  got  there.  He 
was  a  dude,  all  togged  up,  an'  he  took  a  callin' 

21 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

me  'Buckskin,'  what  for  I  don't  know,  but  it 
made  me  mad,  and  to  get  square,  when  he  put 
his  basket  down  I  watched  my  chance  and  sHpped 
two  'catties'  in  an'  took  out  his  trout  an'  Ht  out 
for  home  lickity  spHt.  Gosh!  but  I  bet  he  was 
mad.  I  never  seen  him  but  once  more,  and  he 
was  on  one  side  of  the  creek  an'  I  was  on  the  other, 
an'  I  took  care  to  stay  there.  He  said  he  had 
some  hooks  I  could  have  if  I  would  wade  across, 
but  I  told  him  I  was  delicate  and  afraid  I'd  take 
cold.  He!  he!"  So  the  boy  rambled  on,  the  man 
taking  many  cues  from  the  way  in  which  he  man- 
aged his  rig  and  how  he  adjusted  bait,  and  when 
time  for  quitting  came  the  bov  had  the  best  string. 
"On'y  'cause  I  had  the  better  hook,"  he  said,  "an' 
know  better  where  to  fish.  You  can  do  jes'  as  well 
next  time,  'cause  you'll  know,  an'  say,  if  you'll 
tell  me  when  you  will  come  again  I'll  bring  you 
one  of  my  hooks  and  you  will  have  better  luck." 
The  sun  had  gone  down  behind  the  hills  as 
the  man  went  back  to  his  abode.  He  was  learn- 
ing a  lesson.  Never  had  he  spent  so  gladsome  an 
afternoon  since  his  boyhood  days.  In  the  boy 
he  saw  a  reflection  of  himself  at  that  period  in 
life,  but  the  boy  had  a  touch  about  him  which  he 
felt  he  never  possessed.  The  real  soulfulness  of 
the  game  seemed  to  him  to  be  that  no  matter 
what  the  specimen  taken  the  boy  was  gloating 
over  it  and,  as  he  afterward  told  him,  "Why 
shouldn't  I  love  'em?  We've  growed  up  together 
in  the  neighborhood,  an*  I  bet  no  fancy  fish  you 

22 


A  REJUVENATION 

know  of  will  beat  some  of  the  common  kind,  as 
you  call  'em,  an'  I'll  show  you  some  day."  And 
so  the  man  went  home  that  night  with  happy 
thoughts,  and,  as  he  had  not  done  for  many 
weary  months,  wrapped  the  drapery  of  his  couch 
about  him  and 

'''Lay  down  to  pleasant  dreams" 


23 


CHAPTER  II 

Cattie  Fishing 

The  mail  was  late  one  morning  at  the  village 
near  which  the  man  was  boarding,  and  he  was 
awaiting  its  arrival  at  the  store.  One  of  those 
quaint  affairs,  so  general  throughout  the  rural 
districts,  with  its  motley  collection  of  merchan- 
dise, where  could  be  had 

Liniment  to  cure  lumbago; 
Plowshares^  oranges^  and  sago. 

The  man  was  one  of  a  numberless  throng  who, 
through  dint  of  long  hours  and  every-day  service 
over  ponderous  ledgers,  though  not  yet  of  middle 
life,  had  reached  the  condition  where  rest  and 
change  was  imperative. 

His  wife  and  one  child  had  gone  to  spend  an 
interval  of  time  with  her  people,  while  he  had 
decided  to  recuperate  in  the  region  of  his  youth. 

As  in  most  sections  of  its  kind,  but  few  changes 
had  taken  place  during  his  absence.  Some  of  his 
old  friends  had  passed  to  the  great  beyond,  while 
those  of  his  own  years  had  become  the  staid  resi- 
dents, working  out  their  destiny  much  as  had 
their  predecessors.  He  was  reading  a  sale  bill 
hung  up  in  the  store  when  in  breezed  his  boy 
acquaintance  of  a  few  days  previous,  garbed  much 


CATTIE  FISHING 

the  same  as  on  the  previous  day,  except  that  his 
battered  straw  hat  was  replaced  by  a  cap  equally 
disreputable  in  appearance,  worn  well  back  on 
his  head,  showing  off  to  good  advantage  the 
freckles  on  nose  and  cheeks. 

"Hello!"  he  said,  on  catching  sight  of  the  man. 
"Feelin'  better  now.^  I  ain't  been  to  the  ponds 
nor  creek  since  leavin'  you  that  night,  'ceptin' 
once  just  'fore  dark.  Got  some  catties  an'  one 
wallopin'  eel.  It's  cloudy  to-day  an'  may  rain 
some.  If  you  don't  mind,  s'posin'  we  go  after 
catties  'long  'bout  two  o'clock?  Aunt  Mary'll 
let  me  go;  she  gen'ly  does  when  the  garden  work's 
done  and  no  errands  to  do.  An'  say,"  he  ran  on, 
scarcely  taking  breath,  "you  needn't  bother  none 
about  bait.  I've  got  a  lot  of  worms  washed  and 
mossed;  keep  better  that  way;  makes  'em  tougher. 
If  you  look  the  moss  over  good  an'  pick  out  the 
dead  grass  ends  the  worms  won't  cut,  'nen  keep 
'em  where  it  is  nice  and  cool." 

The  boy  had  a  peculiar  method  of  abbreviation 
when  speaking  earnestly.  His  "and  then"  was 
usually  corrupted  into  "  'nen,"  and  so  on  through 
an  original  and  regular  vocabulary.  "  'Ceptin'," 
he  continued,  "you  might  bring  'long  a  piece  of 
beef  if  it's  good  and  red.  Catties  take  it  some- 
times better'n  worms.  Funny,  ain't  it,  how 
they'll  notionate  'bout  eatin'  this  a-way  an' 
that?  Got  good  hooks?"  he  asked.  "They've 
got  most  all  kinds  here."  So,  upon  inspection,  a 
selection  was  made  which  suited  the  boy's  idea 

25 


FISHING  WITH  A  BOY 

as  to  size.  He  examined  the  mark  2-0  on  the  end 
of  the  box  with  a  puzzled  air.  "I  d'know  why 
they  mark  'em  that  way,"  he  thoughtfully  ob- 
served. "There's  a  reason,  I  s'pose.  Anyhow, 
that's  good  size,  but  most  anything  will  catch 
catties,  but  might  as  well  have  'em  right.  An' 
say,  Mister,  what  does  that  mean?"  His  finger 
followed  the  word  "Kirbed"  on  the  blue  label  of 
the  box. 

The  man  explained  that  it  meant  the  point 
was  bent  or  sprung  out  from  a  straight  hne  with 
the  frame  of  the  hook.  The  explanation  was  met 
with  the  simple  monosyllabic  "Oh,"  adding,  how- 
ever, as  to  himself:  "They're  dandy  hooks,  but 
too  small  for  pike  an'  some  too  large  for  perch  or 
sunnies."  Here  was  a  hint  which  was  taken  good- 
naturedly  by  the  man,  and  their  heads  were  soon 
together  making  selection,  4-0  for  pike,  as  the 
boy  persisted  in  calling  them,  and  No.  12  for 
smaller  fish. 

The  man  divided  his  purchase  equally  with  the 
boy,  much  to  the  latter's  delight.  He  scurried 
away  and  from  somewhere  produced  two  large 
bottle  corks  and  at  once  proceeded  to  place  the 
hooks  thereon,  pressing  the  points  well  in.  The 
man  received  a  letter  from  home,  the  boy  a  news- 
paper for  his  aunt.  They  separated  at  the  door, 
the  boy  calling  back  from  quite  a  distance: 
"Meet  you  at  the  white  bridge  'bout  two,  meb'e 
a  little  sooner,"  then  went  on  down  the  road  with 
his  care-free  swing,  the  man  reflectiiag  that  there 

26 


< 


CATTIE  FISHING 

are  Tom  Sawyers  or  Huck  Finns  in  every  neigh- 
borhood awaiting  another  Mark  Twain  to  record 
them. 

The  youngster  was  on  the  bridge  at  the  time 
appointed,  and  as  the  man  approached  was  in- 
dustriously hurHng  bits  of  rock  at  a  red  squirrel 
in  an  adjacent  tree,  the  squirrel  as  industriously 
dodging  this  way  and  that,  now  up,  now  down, 
then  out  on  a  limb  as  the  rocks  struck  the  trunk 
with  resounding  thwacks,  meanwhile  keeping  up 
the  blustering  chatter  of  its  nature. 

The  boy  had  not  noticed  the  approach  of  his 
friend  until  he  heard  his  step  on  the  planks,  so 
intent  was  he  in  his  pursuit  of  the  squirrel.  Then 
he  said:  "Wish't  I  had  a  gun.  Them  chick-a-rees 
ain't  no  use  'cept  to  chase  the  big  greys  through 
the  woods  and  rob  every  bird's  nest  in  creation." 

He,  although  uncouth  of  speech  to  a  degree, 
was  fast  learning  the  ways  of  the  wood  folks  as 
well  as  that  of  the  denizens  of  the  waters.  The 
man  noticed  with  pleasure  that  during  their 
many  excursions  no  coarse  speech  escaped  the 
boy's  lips,  though  crude  in  many  ways  and  some 
of  his  sayings  were  uncanny.  "There  goes  a 
flicker,"  he  observed,  as  they  passed  by  a  large 
ash  tree  in  the  meadow.  "I'll  bet  she's  got  a 
nest  in  that  dead  limb  out  there.  See  that  hole?" 
His  eyes  took  in  carefully  the  trunk  of  the  tree, 
which  was  much  too  large  for  him  to  attempt  to 
cHmb.  "High-holders  we  call  'em,  but  they  can't 
sing,  they  just  squawk." 

27 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

"I  didn't  bring  no  pole  with  me  to-day  no 
more'n  you,"  chattered  on  the  boy,  "We'll  go 
over  to  the  birch  sprouts  an'  cut  what's  good  an' 
limber.  Most  fun  in  catching  catties  is  to  see  the 
pole  bend,  an'  that  gives  'em  a  chance  to  scoot 
around  more;  'tain't  no  fun  in  jest  hossin*  'em 
out.  Got  a  knife?  My  name's  Matt,"  he  rambled 
on,  "though  most  of  folks  here  call  me  Mott. 
Why,  I  don't  know.  What  can  I  call  you  b'sides 
Mister?"  The  man  good-naturedly  informed  him 
his  name  was  WoodhuU,  at  which  the  boy  re- 
mained thoughtfully  quiet  for  some  time  as 
though  to  fix  the  name  indelibly  in  his  mind. 
"They'll  do,"  he  remarked,  as  he  looked  the  two 
birch  poles  with  their  white  butts  and  red  tops 
over  critically  which  had  been  selected  and  closely 
trimmed.  "They're  good  an'  long,  so  we  will  use 
a  line  some  shorter,  so  as  when  the  pole  is  bent 
you  can  keep  the  fish  comin'  slow,  but  you  get 
him."  Mr.  Woodhull  had  kept  in  view,  since 
their  first  meeting,  the  intense,  practical  methods 
of  the  boy.  The  ethics  of  the  game  were  his.  He 
seemed  at  fault  on  no  essential  point. 

Even  when  it  came  to  baiting  up,  as  he  termed 
it,  there  was  method.  "See?"  he  said.  "I  do  not 
run  the  hook  all  the  way  through  the  worm,  but 
weave  the  hook  in  and  out  two  or  three  times; 
that  lets  the  worm  live  longer  and  does  not  tear 
it  up  so;  b'sides,  fish  see  it  better  if  it  wriggles." 

They  were  at  the  place  where  the  boy  had  said, 
the  day  of  their  first  meeting,  was  good  for  catties, 


CATTIE  FISHING 

and  each  proceeded  on  his  own  initiative.  Matt, 
first  gauging  the  depth  of  the  water,  then  set  his 
float  so  that  the  bait  would  just  clear  the  bottom 
as  it  moved  about  with  the  current. 

"They're  always  on  the  bottom,"  he  observed, 
"an'  the  closer  you  fish  the  more  you'll  get. 
There's  no  sense  in  puttin'  on  more'n  one  worm 
at  a  time;  they  don't  get  'em  in  bunches  'ceptin* 
on  some  fool's  hook.  I  fish  away  from  the  cur- 
rent an'  more  where  it  moves  'round  in  circles. 
See,  there's  one  now."  With  a  quick  jump  to  his 
feet,  the  pliant  pole  was  sent  into  quick  doubles, 
the  hooked  fish  darting  here  and  there,  but 
gradually  being  worked  to  the  bank,  where,  with 
a  flourish,  the  boy  sent  him  into  the  air  and  laid 
him  on  the  grass,  a  fine  specimen  of  his  tribe. 
"He's  a  broad-mouth,"  observed  Matt;  then  to 
Mr.  Woodhull:  "Ever  notice  any  difi^erence  in 
catties?"  Perhaps  the  latter  had  in  his  early 
days,  but  if  so  had  forgotten  the  fact.  "See,  the 
mouth  is  wide  and  head  broad;  some  we  get  up 
in  the  little  mill  pond  are  diff'erent.  Their  heads 
are  not  near  so  broad  and  mouth  smaller,  and 
have  white  bellies  always.  An'  this  kind  have 
plumb  dirt-color  bellies.  I  wonder  why?  This 
way  I  take  'em  off,"  he  said,  walking  over  to  his 
companion  and  placing  his  left  thumb  behind  the 
fin  on  the  right  side  of  the  fish,  then  the  index 
and  middle  finger  over  the  back  and  on  either 
side  of  the  back  or  dorsal  spine  ray,  and  so  on 
over  to  the  left  side,  thus  pinioning  all  the  dan- 

29 


FISHING  WITH   A   BOY 

gcrous  rays  to  a  rigid  position  and  under  perfect 
control.  WoodhuU  had  known  all  this  in  his 
earlier  days,  and  so  many  of  the  moves  and 
methods  of  the  boy  Matt  was  Hke  re-reading  a 
well-known  book.  But  time  and  business  thoughts 
had  swept  them  temporarily  from  his  mind,  and 
good  it  was  to  him  to  have  this  youthful  mentor 
at  his  side  not  alone  for  his  helpfulness,  but  his 
cheerful  association  and  quaint  sayings  were  al- 
ways amusing  and  very  interesting. 

"Another  thing,"  continued  Matt,  "there's  no 
sense  in  battin'  a  fish  or  eel  over  the  head  with  a 
stick  or  bangin'  it  on  the  ground,  holdin'  on  to 
the  line.  I  stick  the  knife  blade  just  back  of  the 
head,  'nen  push  down  hard  and  go  through  the 
backbone.  The  fish  is  dead  in  a  jiffy;  he  can't 
wriggle  'round  no  more  and  saves  lots  of  trouble. 
Say,"  he  said,  brightening  up,  "a  man  was  down 
here  last  year  fishin',  and  he  said  that  fish  never 
had  pains.  They  had  no  'pain  nerves,'  he  called 
'em;  you  couldn't  hurt  'em  same  as  a  dog  or  cat. 
Do  you  believe  that?"  he  asked  earnestly.  Then, 
as  if  a  happy  thought  came  to  him,  he  said: 
"Gosh!  if  that's  so,  they  never  have  the  belly- 
ache," and  he  laid  down  on  the  grass  and  giggled. 
The  fish  just  taken  was  a  good  one  of  two  pounds 
or  more  in  weight,  and  as  he  had  performed  the 
operation  he  had  last  mentioned  of  cutting 
through  the  backbone  close  up  to  the  head,  the 
fish  was  limp  and  fast  dying.  "Ts  there  any  sense 
to  them  things,  and  if  so,  what?"  he  asked  Mr. 

30 


CATTIE  FISHING 

Woodhull,  as  he  fingered  the  barbels  on  the  lips 
and  chin  of  the  fish.  He  was  told  that  they  were 
much  the  same  to  a  fish  as  the  whiskers  to  a  cat 
or  dog;  very  sensitive  to  touch  and  no  doubt 
helped  the  fish  much  in  searching  out  its  food. 
The  only  reply  was  the  familiar  "Oh."  Fish  were 
taking  hold  in  fair  shape,  and  both  were  content 
for  a  time  to  apply  their  attention  to  their  re- 
spective lines,  except  when  a  larger  one  than 
usual  was  taken,  or  it  might  be  a  very  small  one, 
sujfficient  to  cause  comment,  but  little  of  conversa- 
tion for  a  period  ensued.  "Did  you  bring  along 
the  beef?"  finally  asked  the  boy.  "I'll  try  it  and 
see  what  they  say  to  it."  The  beef  was  produced 
and  a  small  portion  put  on  the  hook  by  the  boy 
and  was  quickly  taken  by  a  fish,  the  boy  remark- 
ing: "See,  they  are  hungry  and  will  take  most 
any  kind  of  bait.  Some  days  they  are  too  lazy 
to  bite  at  more'n  worms,  and  then  not  always  at 
them  unless  they  want  to. 

"I  wonder  what's  doin'  on  your  hook?"  Then 
after  a  moment  or  two,  as  they  watched  Mr. 
Woodhull's  float  work  over  where  the  water  was 
quite  shallow,  "Don't  seem  Hke  a  cattie;  meb'e 
it's  an  eel,  but  don't  seem  like  it."  Then  the  float 
came  to  rest,  partly  submerged,  and  both  were 
puzzled.  The  man  raised  his  pole  and  remarked, 
"It's  a  stick,  I  think.  I'll  see,"  and  drew  all  from 
the  water.  "Gee!  What's  that?"  yelled  the  boy, 
as  he  ducked  his  head  and  an  object  like  a  lizard 
swept  over,  fastened  to  the  man's  hook.    "I  never 

31 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

seen  anything  like  it  before.  Seems  most  like 
an  alligator,  only  uglier  in  shape."  It  was  much 
like  a  lizard,  in  fact,  but  the  tail  was  quite  as 
long  as  the  body  and  quite  without  taper,  the 
whole  animal  being  disgusting  in  appearance  in 
the  extreme,  and  so  sluggish  in  its  movements  as 
to  appear  almost  inanimate.  The  boy  stood  well 
away  from  it  and  seemed  spellbound.  "Wonder 
if  it's  pizen?"  he  said.  The  man,  much  amused, 
watched  the  face  of  the  boy  for  a  short  period 
and  then  said:  "Yes,  I  remember  seeing  one 
before;  it  was  from  a  pond  above  here.  A  man 
took  it  from  a  muddy  slough.  He  called  it  a 
'mud-puppy'  or  'hell-bender,'  and  said  they  were 
harmless."  "Well,"  said  Matt,  after  a  consider- 
able pause,  "the  last  name  is  best,  an'  I  hope  if 
there's  any  more  of  them  they'll  forget  to  bite." 
Bringing  a  stick  down  across  the  back  of  the 
offending  creature  with  all  his  might,  he  cut  the 
line  well  away  from  its  mouth,  thus  sacrificing 
the  hook,  and,  gathering  the  remains  on  the  end 
of  the  stick,  he  threw  them  across  the  creek  into 
the  brush  with  the  remark:  "Gosh!  I  didn't  be- 
lieve there  was  a  thing  like  that  around  these 
parts.  I  knowed  there  was  blood-suckers  in  the 
shoal  water  down  below,  but  a  thing  like  that! 
Suppose  one  should  get  hold  of  a  fellow  when  he's 
in  swimmin'.  Gosh!  why  it's  a  foot  long,"  he 
continued,  "meb'e  more."  Then  seating  himself 
by  the  side  of  the  man,  he  began  working  his  big 
toe  into  the  soft  bank  below  the  sod  and  seemed 

3^ 


CATTIE  FISHING 

troubled  in  spirit.  All  interest  in  fishing  had 
suddenly  left  him.  The  man  had  resumed  his 
fishing,  but  the  boy's  pole  was  dangling  in  the 
water,  his  mind  fully  absorbed  by  the  thought  of 
what  to  him  was  a  monstrosity. 

"Let's  go  home,"  he  said.  "It's  most  night, 
and  we've  got  plenty  of  fish  for  both  of  us.  I 
hope  I  don't  dream  about  that  bender  to-night. 
I  don't  like  to  think  about  such  things  as  that." 


33 


CHAPTER  III 

Catfish  Philosophy 

The  weather  was  inclement  for  several  days 
following  the  mud-puppy  incident,  and  Mr.  Wood- 
hull  had  seen  nor  heard  nothing  of  Matt.  Heavy 
rains  had  fallen,  making  fishing  practically  im- 
possible in  the  much-swollen  creek.  The  first 
afternoon  that  conditions  promised  fair  he  walked 
down  to  the  cottage  where  the  boy  resided  with 
his  widowed  aunt.  He  did  this  not  solely  because 
he  was  lonesome,  but  subconsciously  the  boy  was 
fast  becoming  an  essential  part  of  his  upbuilding 
recreation.  He  had  found  in  him  a  gem  which, 
like  so  many  another,  needed  polishing  only  and 
a  proper  setting  to  become  a  brilliant. 

The  cottage  and  garden  were  well  kept.  The 
aunt  was  inclined  to  be  talkative  after  introduc- 
tion by  Matt,  who  was  delighted  at  the  prospect 
of  a  long  visit  from  his  friend. 

"Seem'd  ough  it  would  never  stop  rainin',''  he 
broke  in  between  commonplaces  in  the  conversa- 
tion. "Gates  is  up  at  both  dams  at  the  mills,  an' 
the  creek's  flooded,  but  it's  some  better  to-dav. 
To-morrow'U  be  all  right  at  the  mill  hole — the 
upper  one,  an'  " — 

"Land's  sake!"  observed  the  aunt.  "If  Matt 
could  learn  other  things  as  he  does  fish  and  where 

34 


CATFISH   PHILOSOPHY 

to  go  for  them  it  would  be  more  like,  but,"  she 
added  aside,  "he's  a  good  boy  in  the  main  and  a 
sight  of  help  and  company  for  me.  He's  turned 
thirteen  now,  and  when  school  is  over  and  his 
garden  work  and  chores  are  done,  I  don't  mind. 
He  brings  home  a  lot  of  fish  and  sometimes  more 
than  we  can  use,  and  they  help  out  with  the  table. 
And  when  one  takes  a  thought  on  the  different 
ways  they  can  be  cooked  it  helps  out  all  the 
more." 

"There's  perch  in  the  gate  hole  an'  plenty  of 
'em,"  said  Matt,  "an'  some  big  ones,  too,  but  I 
don't  know  if  they'll  bite  when  the  water's  riled 
up.  They  don't  often,  but  we  can  get  some  grass- 
hoppers; that  will  sometimes  tempt  'em." 

That  the  boy  was  well  provided  with  poles 
was  evidenced  by  the  stock  stored  in  the  rafters 
of  the  woodshed,  many  of  which  had  never  as 
yet  seen  service,  but  all  showed  the  same  care  in 
selection  and  trimming,  and  had  the  initials 
M.  B.  cut  in  the  butt  of  each.  Each  had  its  related 
history  as  to  which  particular  swamp  had  pro- 
duced it,  and  what  it  was  especially  designed  for. 

No  collection  of  split  bamboos  in  the  den  of 
the  man  of  wealth  were  ever  displayed  with  more 
pride.  But  these  were  cheap;  the  swamp  and 
woodlands  produced  them  without  cost. 

Lines  and  hooks  were,  however,  a  more  serious 
matter.  They  cost  money,  of  which  the  lad  had 
but  little.  The  aunt,  while  quite  indulgent,  could 
spare  but  little  from  her  meager  income,  except 

35 


FISHING  W  ITH  A   BOY 

for  his  clothing.  Even  part  of  the  small  earnings 
of  the  lad  by  doing  an  occasional  errand  or  chore 
for  a  neighbor  must  go  into  the  general  fund. 

One  privilege,  however,  he  had:  a  neighbor  had 
given  him  a  steel  trap,  and  the  past  two  winters 
he  had  taken  a  few  muskrats,  and  from  the  sale 
of  the  skins,  which  brought  but  a  few  pennies 
each,  he  had  purchased  such  lines  and  hooks  as 
he  had. 

That  money,  his  aunt  had  promised  him,  should 
be  his  to  use  as  he  wished.  Matt  was  as  yet  but 
little  versed  in  the  skill  of  the  trapper,  but  later 
in  life,  when  the  writer  knew  him  well,  he  was  a 
past  master  of  the  art. 

The  following  afternoon  the  two  met  on  the 
bridge,  and  this  time  went  up  stream  instead  of 
down,  as  formerly.  This  led  them  to  the  mill 
which,  as  was  the  custom  in  those  days,  embraced 
both  sawmill  and  flour  grist  mill,  as  it  was  then 
termed. 

Both  being  driven  by  the  old  type  over-shot 
wheel,  the  action  of  which,  as  well  as  the  water 
rushing  through  the  gates  from  the  pond  above, 
created  a  large  and  deep  basin  of  water  which 
was  always  a  favorite  place  for  fishing  for  both 
men  and  boys. 

The  lad  had  a  stock  of  prepared  worms.  The 
man  had  brought  along  a  piece  of  beef  as  well  as 
a  small  slice  of  salt  pork,  and  as  they  passed 
through  the  meadow  had  succeeded  in  getting 
some  grasshoppers,  which  were  put  in  a  small  tin 

36 


CATFISH  PHILOSOPHY 

box.      The    box    had    some    nail    holes    punched 
through  the  lid  to  "give  'em  air,"  as  he  said. 

Here  fishing  was  easy.  The  banks  came  well 
down  to  the  water's  edge  and  shelved  off  rapidly, 
so  that  deep  water  was  within  easy  reach.  It  was 
the  work  of  but  a  short  while  for  the  lad  to  find 
the  parts  of  two  broken  boxes,  and  they  were 
soon  made  into  comfortable  seats,  after  which 
two  forked  branches  were  pushed  down  into  the 
soft  earth  with  forked  ends  up  to  receive  the 
poles  as  rests. 

"Don't  seem  like  it's  much  use  to  work  for 
anythin'  but  catties  yet,"  remarked  Matt,  scru- 
tinizing the  water  closely.  "It's  too  muddy,  an' 
perch  don't  seem  to  eat  much  when  it's  like  that. 
Wonder  why?  Can't  they  see?  It's  funny," 
he  rambled  on  when  they  were  seated,  "how 
men  will — an'  I  watched  'em  an'  seen  'em 
do  it — string  a  worm  solid  through  on  a  thick 
hook,  sometimes  breakin'  'em  all  up,  when  if 
they'd  on'y  loop  'em  on  two  or  three  times 
it's  better. 

"One  man  said  the  fish  could  see  the  hook  an' 
wouldn't  bite,  as  if  a  fish  thinks  a  thing  out  like 
that;  'sides,  don't  I  take  'em  all  the  time  that 
way  and  more  of  'em,  too?  They's  some  big  pike 
in  here  an'  more  above  the  dam,  an'  some  day 
we'll  give  'em  a  go.  Mr.  Silver's  got  a  boat,  an' 
I  can  have  it  any  time  if  I  give  him  some  fish. 
Oars  is  in  the  mill.  He  won't  let  me  have  it  with 
other  boys;  says  they  knock  it  about  too  much; 

37 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

'sides,  he  says  two  boys  are  one  too  many  to  be 
together  any  time." 

Matt  had  brought  along  his  two  longest  poles, 
as  the  basin  was  wide,  and  it  gave  them  more 
chance  for  getting  out  to  different  points.  Mr. 
Woodhull  had  used  pork  for  bait,  cutting  a  long, 
slim  slice  and  put  it  well  up  on  the  hook.  The 
boy,  using  his  favorite  worms,  remarked  as  Mr. 
Woodhull  put  on  the  pork,  "I've  heard  they'd 
bite  it,  an'  I  know  they'll  eat  pieces  of  chicken; 
seen  a  man  use  it  once,  but  what's  the  use  when 
the's  plenty  of  worms?  Salt  pork,  there  don't 
seem  to  be  much  about  that  they'd  like."  At  this 
point  the  man's  cork  went  down  quickly,  and  as 
he  struck  the  pole  bent  sharply  and  the  line  cut 
the  water  at  an  angle,  now  this  way,  now  that. 
The  tip  of  the  pole  finally  touching  the  water,  the 
lad  grew  excited.  "Gee!"  he  said,  "you've  got  a 
big  he  eel;  but  he  scoots  aroun'  pretty  fast  for 
that.  Bet  it's  a  pike,  an'  a  buster."  Slowly  the 
fish  was  brought  around  to  the  bank,  and  when 
finally  grassed  it  proved  to  be  a  catfish  of  fully 
three  pounds  in  weight.  No  matter  how  in  earnest 
or  how  much  the  boy  became  excited  over  some 
unexpected  catch,  he  was  never  boisterous.  It  is 
true  he  had  yelled  when  the  mud-puppy  was  sent 
close  over  his  head,   but,  as  he  afterward  said, 

'Twas  ugly  enough  to  scare  a  blind  sawbuck." 
Matt  was  elated  over  the  big  catfish.  "I  told  you 
the  big  ones  was  here,"  he  said.  "Sometimes  you 
get  'em  below,  but  not  general,"  he  added. 

38 


CATFISH  PHILOSOPHY 

"Notice  anything  'bout  a  catfish  when  you 
bring  it  to  the  top  of  the  water  different  from  most 
others?"  he  asked.  As  he  strung  the  fish  on  a 
stout  string  with  a  cross-stick  at  the  end  so  as  to 
retain  the  catch,  the  man  said  he  knew  of  no 
peculiarity  in  that  respect.  "Well,  keep  your 
eye  on  the  next  one,  an'  every  one,  an'  you'll  see 
they  alius  come  to  the  top  belly  up  an'  fight  at 
the  top  that  way,  if  they  get  a  chance  an'  are  not 
hossed  right  out  like  some  do  with  'em." 

"Say,"  he  continued,  "some  men  fish  here  with 
regular  bean  poles  an'  slat  'em  out."  Mr.  Wood- 
hull  took  three  more  on  his  pork  bait  before  the 
boy  got  a  bite,  although  none  as  large  as  the  first 
one,  which  set  up  a  query  with  the  lad. 

"Wonder  if  it's  'cause  the  water's  thick  an' 
the  pork  shows  white  an'  they  see  it  better?"  he 
asked.  "Shouldn't  be  s'prised,  but  'nen  what  do 
they  do  when  the's  no  pork  nor  anythin'  white 
t'eat?  Have  to  get  it  somehow.  Guess  again. 
Matt,"  he  said,  as  if  to  himself,  and  then  became 
thoughtful.  He  sat  quite  a  while  in  deep  thought, 
then  began:  "I'd  fish  a  lot  nights,  on'y  Aunt 
Mary  ain't  willin'  I  should.  Says  I  might  get 
into  some  hole  or  place,  or  somethin'  happen. 
Catties  bite  a'most  as  well  nights  as  daytime;  so 
do  eels — better  sometimes.  I  was  thinkin',"  he 
continued,  "  'bout  when  I  could  get  some  money 
and  buy  a  lot  of  hooks  an'  a  big  line.  I  could  rig 
up  a  set  line  for  the  pools  an'  here.  Set  'em  over 
night,  'nen  take  'em  up  first  thing  in  the  mornin*. 

39 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

Bet  I  could  get  a  lot,  an'  when  I  skin  'em  they 
sell  good.  Might  help  Aunt  Mary  some.  Say,  I 
don't  see  no  fun  in  it.  I'd  sooner  take  one  on  a 
pole  than  a  string  that  way.  An'  say,"  he  added 
suddenly,  "how  do  you  skin  a  catty?"  His  friend 
admitted  he  was  not  good  at  it;  in  fact,  the  people 
where  he  boarded  did  that,  and  were  glad  to  have 
the  fish.  "Why,"  said  the  boy,  "it's  just  as  easy," 
with  a  strong  emphasis  on  the  last  word.  "I'll 
show  you  if  I  get  one  at  my  hook." 

Throwing  out  a  fair-sized  one,  he  at  once 
severed  the  spinal  column,  as  described,  with  the 
point  of  his  knife,  which  at  once  rendered  it  help- 
less, and  finding  a  piece  of  board,  laid  the  fish  on 
it.  Putting  his  left  hand  on  the  head,  he  said: 
"Now  look.  See,  I  start  in  behind  the  fin  on  the 
back,  cut  clean  through,  'nen  come  on  clean  up 
to  the  place  where  I  cut  his  backbone,  'nen  go 
right  down  with  the  knife  to  the  skin  on  his 
throat,  'nen  hold  the  knife  there  solid  an'  pull 
hard.  See,  on  the  head,  an'  off  comes  the  skin 
an'  his  insides  come  out  at  the  same  time.  It's 
easy.  Gee!  but  a  catty  looks  skimpy  when  his 
head  an'  jacket's  off.  Aunt  Mary's  got  a  way  of 
cookin'  fish  what  is  good  as  ever.  When  they're 
cleaned  she  puts  them  in  salt  and  water,  sometimes 
over  night,  and  then  takes  'em  out  and  wipes  'em 
dry  and  puts  some  fat  in  the  fryer  and  lets  it  get 
good  an'  hot.  'Nen  she  puts  the  fish  in,  after 
putting  some  crumbs  on.  Sometimes  she  sprinkles 
crackers  rolled  fine  an'  when  eggs  are  plenty  she 

40 


CATFISH   PHILOSOPHY 

put  an  egg  over  'em.     Gee!  but  I  most  taste  'em 
now." 

During  the  afternoon  a  buggy  wagon  drew  into 
the  mill  yard  and  a  man,  after  going  into  the  mill, 
came  down  to  where  the  two  were  fishing,  carry- 
ing a  cloth  case  and  a  package  and  began  talking 
to  Mr.  Woodhull.  He  was  very  agreeable  in 
manner,  and  after  seeing  the  fish,  which  were  on 
hand,  asked  if  there  was  any  objection  on  their 
part  about  his  fishing  near  them. 

He  said  the  miller  had  told  him  he  was  welcome 
to  fish  where  he  wished,  but  did  not  want  to  in- 
trude near  them  if  they  felt  he  should  not  do  so. 
Both  were  glad  to  have  a  companion,  particularly 
as  he  promised  by  his  manner  to  be  most  sociable. 
He  produced  from  its  cover  a  jointed  bamboo  rod 
which,  from  its  appearance,  had  seen  much  use, 
though  still  in  perfect  order.  A  free-running  reel 
of  medium  size  and  good  make  was  the  next 
produced. 

This  was  a  revelation  to  Matt,  who  had  seen 
nothing  but  the  click  reel  as  used  by  an  occasional 
trout  fisherman  he  had  met.  As  he  watched  the 
first  casts  made  and  noticed  how  easy  it  seemed 
for  the  stranger  to  place  his  tackle  just  where  he 
desired,  his  wonder  knew  no  bounds.  Matt  found 
a  comfortable  seat  for  him  and  they  soon  were 
friends,  the  boy  eagerly  asking  questions,  which 
were  readily  answered. 

Mr.  Woodhull  was  an  equally  interested  party. 
The  man  had  purchased  a  property  near  by  and 

41 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

heard  of  the  fishing  in  the  chain  of  ponds  and 
creek  running  from  them,  and  had  taken  this 
opportunity  to  give  it  a  trial.  He  was  very  glad 
to  meet  someone  who  knew  the  different  points 
and  the  kinds  of  fish  to  be  taken. 

He  had  traveled  extensively  and  had  caught 
fish  in  most  of  the  States,  particularly  in  the 
Middle  and  Southern  ones,  and  was  fairly  well  ac- 
quainted with  many  salt-water  varieties. 

The  simple,  earnest  nature  of  the  lad  charmed 
him,  and  the  delicate  appearance  of  Mr.  Wood- 
hull  drew  forth  his  sympathy,  but  he  carefully 
refrained  from  comment.  Matt  was  waiting 
eagerly  to  see  a  fish  take  the  stranger's  hook.  He 
was  anxious  to  see  how,  with  that  comparatively 
short  rod  and  long  line  out,  a  fish  might  be  hooked, 
as  he  had  cast  to  the  farther  side  of  the  basin  near 
a  patch  of  lily  pads  growing  near  the  opposite 
bank. 

Soon  the  painted  top  float  went  down  and  the 
man,  as  the  quick  eye  of  the  lad  noted,  reeled  in 
until  the  line  came  fairly  taut,  then  struck  firmly 
but  not  hard,  and  the  bending,  pliant  rod  gave 
mute  testimony  that  a  fish  was  hooked. 

The  long  line  gave  the  fish  full  play  and  it  ran 
the  entire  length  of  the  basin,  then  doubled  and 
back,  all  the  time  being  worked  nearer  by  the 
shortening  line  until  it  was  drawn  to  the  bank,  then 
lifted  out  and  laid  on  the  grass.  It  was  a  nice 
exhibition  of  the  fisherman's  skill,  and  the  boy 
was  meditative.     He  was  quick  to  ofler  advice  as 

4^ 


CATFISH  PHILOSOPHY 

to  the  safe  method  of  unhooking  the  fish,  but 
noticed  with  pride  that  his  method  was  well  known 
to  their  friend. 

"Catfish,"  he  began,  as  he  ran  out  his  long 
cast  again,  "are  among  the  most  interesting  of 
our  common  fishes. 

"The  family  is  a  large  one,  and  where  any  are 
found  they  are  usually  plentiful,  as  they  multiply 
rapidly.  They  will  eat  almost  any  kind  of  meat, 
as  well  as  bits  offish. 

"In  running  streams  where  the  water  is  clear 
they  take  the  minnow  readily  and  are  harder 
fighters.  In  such  waters  they  are  usually  white 
on  the  under  side.  They  usually  have  more 
pointed  heads,  but,"  he  added,  "I  have  taken 
both  kinds  in  muddy  waters,  and  I  think,  as  do 
most  people,  that  there  are  two  distinct  kinds  of 
the  common  catfish. 

"They,  too,  have  the  peculiar  habit  of  carrying 
in  their  mouths  and  gill  openings  their  eggs  just 
before  they  hatch  out,  and  the  mother  fish  may 
be  seen  with  the  little  wrigglers  all  about  her 
head,  looking  like  a  small  cloud  in  the  water." 

"Gee!"  said  the  now  thoroughly  interested  boy, 
"I  thought  they  somehow  set  on  'em  like  a  hen." 
The  man  laughed  at  this  whimsical  turn  and 
continued:  "I  have  seen  them  very  large  in  the 
Mississippi  River  down  below  where  the  Ohio 
empties  into  it,  much  over  one  hundred  pounds 
in  weight."  Matt  straightened  up  and  looked  at 
Mr.  WoodhuU  as  if  to  see  how  he  stood  the  story, 

43 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

then  with  his  pecuHar  "Gee!  that's  bigger'n  me," 
watched  the  stranger  as  he  walked  down  the 
bank  to  loosen  his  line  from  a  bush  where  it  had 
caught  and  turned  to  Mr.  Woodhull  with:  "Won- 
der if  he's  stringin'  us?  Catfish  carryin'  eggs 
round  in  their  mouths;  some  weighing  more'n  a 
hundred  pounds." 

Mr.  W'oodhuU  said  he  had  heard  the  same  be- 
fore and  had  read  of  the  very  large  catfish  to  be 
found  in  the  Southern  rivers.  Here  was  corrob- 
orative proof  from  a  source  he  did  not  question, 
and  he  sat  pensively  digging  his  toe  into  the 
bank,  as  was  his  custom  when  perplexed. 

The  stranger,  whose  name  was  Adams,  resumed 
his  seat  and  was  much  amused  at  Matt's  in- 
credulity, for  well  he  knew  what  was  working  in 
the  boy's  mind.  "I  once  helped  take  some  of  the 
largest  ones  I  ever  saw  down  near  Louisiana,"  he 
continued.  "W^e  took  them  with  gallon  jugs 
and — "  "For  bait?"  almost  yelled  Matt,  and 
the  look  of  incredulity  on  his  face  was  a  study, 
while  the  two  men  roared  with  laughter. 

The  lad  got  up  from  his  box,  leaving  his  pole 
resting  in  the  crotched  stick  and  hook  lying  on 
the  bank,  and  threw  a  stone  at  a  catbird  which 
was  sending  out  its  taunting  cries  from  a  cluster 
of  alders  across  the  basin,  then  walked  slowly 
back  and  resumed  his  fishing  without  a  word. 
"Oh,  no,"  said  Mr.  Adams,  "we  used  the  jugs  tor 
floats.  Just  tied  the  proper  length  of  line  to  the 
handle  of  the  jug,  for  no  matter  when  or  where 

44 


-5 


CATFISH  PHILOSOPHY 

you  fish  for  catfish  you  must  fish  near  the  bottom. 
Then  we  set  the  jugs  adrift  in  a  bayou."  "What's 
them?"  said  the  boy.  "Why,  a  bayou,"  repHed 
Mr.  Adams,  "is  where  the  water  flows  back  into 
the  country  from  the  river  into  a  sort  of  basin, 
and  has  but  httle  if  any  current.  In  such  places 
are  to  be  found  the  largest  fish  and  many  kinds 
besides  catfish.  Then  we  would  row  back  to  the 
shore  and  watch  the  jugs.  When  one  began  bob- 
bing around  we  knew  a  catfish  was  at  the  bait; 
then  when  it  would  start  off,  going  completely 
under  sometimes,  we  knew  it  was  hooked  and 
would  row  out,  draw  it  to  the  surface  and  stun  it 
with  a  club,  then  tow  it  to  the  shore."  The  boy's 
only  comment  was  "Oh."  Keeping  his  eyes 
steadily  out  on  the  water,  he  quietly  asked: 
"Mr.  Adams,  did  you  ever  catch  a  mud-puppy?" 
The  look  on  the  latter's  face  was  a  puzzle  as  to 
whether  the  boy  was  trying  to  joke  him  or  not. 
Finally  he  said:  "No,  I  never  did.  What  are  they 
like?"  "Why,  Mister,  hke  nothing  at  all  in  the 
world  'cept  'tarnation.  What  things  like  that 
were  made  for  beats  me,"  and  he  proceeded  to 
describe  as  best  he  could  the  freak  which  Mr. 
Woodhull  had  swung  so  disagreeably  near  his 
head.  He  finally  grasped  the  boy's  meaning,  and 
said  he  had  seen  them  in  an  aquarium.  That 
they  were  termed  hellbenders  there,  and  were 
among  the  lowest  order  of  animated  creatures. 
"There  is  another  catfish,"  continued  Adams, 
"which    is    much    esteemed    in   Southern    rivers, 

45 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

called  the  channel  cat,  because  it  is  rarely  or 
never  found  except  in  swiftly  moving  waters.  It 
is  a  hard-fighting  fish  on  the  line  and  much  sought 
after  by  anglers.  It  sometimes  reaches  a  weight 
of  ten  pounds,  and  is  good  eating.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  all  the  catfish  tribe  are  good  fish,  and  if  a 
little  study  is  given  to  their  preparation  for  the 
table  many  of  them  are  really  delicious.  Millions 
of  pounds  are  caught  and  sold  annually  through- 
out the  Middle  and  Southern  States,  and  yet  there 
seems  to  be  no  diminution  of  the  supply.  I  wish 
I  could  say  as  much  favorably  of  the  salt-water 
varieties,  of  which  there  are  two  distinct  kinds. 
Where  so  many  choice  fish  abound  they  are  gen- 
erally regarded  as  a  pest  by  the  angler  and  are 
but  little  esteemed  for  the  table." 

Each  had  all  the  fish  they  desired,  the  sun  was 
working  well  down  in  the  west,  and  they  decided 
to  call  it  a  day  and  go  home.  Mr.  Adams  thanked 
them  for  the  points  given  him  as  to  where  to  go 
for  different  kinds  of  fish,  and  they  in  turn  thank- 
ing him  for  his  information.  "Gee!"  observed 
Matt,  as  he  ran  the  end  of  his  pole  in  the  runway 
of  a  meadow  mouse  to  see  if  the  rodent  was  at 
home,  "he  sure  does  know  a  heap  about  catfish." 

Thus  another  day  of  quiet  enjoyment  was  ac- 
complished and  the  boy  and  the  man  turned 
homeward  with  satisfaction  in  their  hearts  with 
nature's  ways. 


46 


CHAPTER  IV 
Ways  of  the  Perch 

"M-A-T-T-i-E,"  called  a  voice  from  the  back 
door  of  the  cottage  several  mornings  after  the 
catfish  excursion.  Then  receiving  no  answer, 
"H-o  Matt,"  again  sounded  the  voice.  "All 
right,"  came  back  from  somewhere  in  the  rear  of 
the  woodshed,  "be  there  in  a  minute,"  and  shortly 
after  he  came  around  through  a  back  gate  in  a 
perturbed  condition  of  mind,  judging  from  his 
facial  expression.  He  was  bareheaded,  and,  as 
usual,  barefooted.  His  hair  was  tousled  and 
streaks  of  dust  covered  his  face.  "Beats  all,"  he 
began  as  soon  as  he  faced  his  aunt,  who  had  called 
him.  "Seems  'ough  somebody's  been  rummagin' 
all  over  our  shed.  Things  are  gone  which  was 
there  on'y  a  day  or  two  ago.  The  fly  net  what 
Mr.  Stillwell  gave  me's  gone  an'  the  tin  blickey's 
disappeared,  too.  Seen  any  boys  moochin' 
'round?"  he  queried.  "No,  I  ain't,"  replied  the 
aunt  shortly.  "For  land's  sake  wash  your  face 
and  eat  your  breakfast.  I've  been  waiting  more 
than  half  an  hour.  You  look  like  a  chimney 
sweep."  The  aunt,  ordinarily  quite  correct  of 
speech,  had  a  habit  of  dropping  into  the  ver- 
nacular of  the  period  when  a  trifle  upset  in  mind. 
"What  about  the  fly  net?"  she  asked.    "Well,  it's 

47 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

gone,"  he  pouted;  "don't  seem  like  anybody'd 
want  it  'cept  for  what  I  did;  anyhow  'twas  mine." 
"I  guess  what's  around  here  will  be  used  for 
what's  thought  best  without  asking  questions," 
said  the  aunt  with  some  asperity.  "Anyhow,  the 
net  is  of  no  use  as  I  can  see,  except  where  it  is. 
I  put  it  over  the  bed  you  fixed  for  my  celery 
plants.  If  you'd  looked  there  you'd  a  seen  it." 
"You'll  alius  mostly  see  things  if  you  look  where 
they  be,"  he  returned  in  a  semi-rebellious  tone, 
then  realizing  from  the  look  on  his  aunt's  face 
that  a  truce  from  his  side  of  the  firing  line  was 
much  the  safer  course,  said  in  greatly  mollified 
tones,  "We'll  fix  something  there  what's  as 
good."  "I  cal'late  that  old  net  will  stay  where  I 
put  it,"  she  returned  firmly,  "and  that  about  ends 
it.  Cats  or  pigeons  would  have  the  ground 
scratched  up  in  no  time,  likely,  and  the  seeds  with 
it.  Besides,  what  on  earth  do  you  want  it  for?" 
"Mr.  Woodhull  wanted  to  use  it;  said  he  had  been 
lookin'  for  somethin'  like  it  for  some  time;  wants 
to  make  somethin'  out  of  it."  The  boy  carefully 
refrained  from  mentioning  anything  about  fish  or 
fishing  at  this  critical  period.  The  truth  was,  the 
two  had  decided  that  if  something  of  the  sort 
could  be  procured,  by  splitting  a  sapling  part 
way  down  or  find  a  properly  branched  one,  a 
serviceable  landing  net  might  be  constructed. 
That  was  the  thing  needed  when  in  quest  of  perch 
or  pickerel,  particularly  when  fishing  from  a 
boat.     This  was  what  he  had  in  view  when  he 

48 


I 


WAYS  OF  THE  PE_RCH 

begged  the  discarded,  rather  fine  mesh  fly  net 
from  their  neighbor.  By  mentioning  Mr.  Wood- 
hull's  name  he  thought  that  there  might  be  a 
chance  for  surrender  on  the  part  of  Aunt  Mary 
in  one  way  or  another.  If  so,  there  was  no  indi- 
cation, judging  from  her  manner  at  the  con- 
clusion of  the  meal.  Diplomatic  relations,  how- 
ever, must  be  opened.  The  mind  of  Matt  was 
busy  and  fully  absorbed  by  it  when  he  took  down 
the  hoe  and  proceeded  to  the  garden  to  do  some 
necessary  weeding. 

Aunt  Mary  was  busy  with  her  household  work, 
and  perhaps  an  hour  had  passed  when,  glancing 
through  the  open  window,  she  saw  Matt  busily 
measuring  the  ground  over  which  the  net  was 
drawn  and  making  sundry  marks  with  the  stub 
of  a  lead  pencil  on  the  handle  of  his  rake.  She 
said  nothing  and  went  on  with  her  work,  but 
later,  needing  his  help  for  something,  she  called 
to  him  without  looking  out.  Receiving  no  answer, 
she  stepped  to  the  door,  but  the  lad  was  nowhere 
in  sight.  Then  with  a  firm  step  and  manner  she 
proceeded  to  the  shed  where  Matt  was  wont  to 
spend  much  of  his  time  among  his  much-loved 
poles  and  other  trappings.  He  was  not  there, 
and  a  glance  among  his  poles  told  her  he  had  not 
gone  fishing;  in  fact,  he  never  did  that  without 
consulting  her.  But  his  spirit,  as  well  as  her  own, 
was  a  trifle  rufiled,  and  her  stand  about  the  net 
should  be  maintained.  She  was  about  to  enter 
the  house  when,  glancing  down  the  road  which 
4  49 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

led  up  from  the  woods  below,  she  saw  Matt  com- 
ing, part  carrying,  part  dragging  something  which 
raised  quite  a  dust  as  it  trailed  along.  "What, 
for  land's  sake,  have  you  got  now?"  she  queried, 
as  he  came  through  the  gate  trailing  a  stretch  of 
chicken  wire  behind  him.  She  noticed  it  was 
close-meshed  and  pretty  badly  crumpled  up. 
"I'm  goin'  to  nail  this  up  to  the  back  fence,"  he 
answered,  as  he  busied  himself  straightening  the 
mess  out.  'The's  cat  tracks  all  over  the  garden, 
an'  they  get  in  where  the  wide  slats  is.  What 
calls  'em  in  there  I  do'  know.  You  can  see  'em 
all  over,"  he  said,  as  the  two  walked  down  the 
garden  path.  And,  true  enough,  the  tracks  were 
plainly  to  be  seen  in  the  mellow  earth.  Aunt 
Mary  viewed  with  satisfaction  but  without  com- 
ment the  neat  work  the  boy  had  made  earlier  in 
the  day,  hoeing  the  vegetables,  after  which  the 
rake  had  smoothed  all.  "Now  look  there,"  she 
said,  as  she  came  to  her  cherished  celery  plants. 
"Something's  throwed  the  net  part  off.  Alaybe 
it's  the  wind,"  and  she  threw  the  disturbed  por- 
tion back  to  its  original  position.  "I  must  lay 
something  on  it,  or  if  it  was  heavier,"  she  said, 
"I  think  it  would  be  better.  I  believe  a  piece  of 
that  chicken  wire  you  have  dug  up  from  the  dump 
heap  will  be  just  the  thing."  "T'wont  more'n 
reach  the  stretch  of  back  fence  as  it  is  now  without 
cuttin'  it,"  said  Matt  stoutly;  "don't  seem  to  be 
no  sense  in  cuttin'  it  in  two."  Aunt  Mary  made 
no  reply,  but  began  taking  measurements  of  the 

50 


Aunt  Marv  and  Mate  in  warm  discussion 


WAYS  OF  THE  PERCH 

plot  of  ground  which,  had  she  known  it,  was 
quite  unnecessary,  as  she  would  have  found  by 
consulting  the  pencil  marks  on  the  handle  of  the 
rake.  It  was  not  more  than  three  by  five  feet, 
just  enough  to  start  the  celery  plants  from  the 
seed  for  trenching  later  on.  After  which  she 
straightened  an  ample  section  of  the  wire  netting 
and  with  a  heavy  pair  of  shears  began  clipping 
the  cross  section.  She  soon  had  a  piece  evidently 
to  her  liking.  Proceeding  down  the  path,  she 
took  up  the  net  and  handed  it  to  Matt  without  a 
word,  and  the  two  laid  the  wire  on,  evidently 
much  to  the  lady's  satisfaction  and  triumph, 
Matt  going  to  the  shed,  where,  as  soon  as  out  of 
sight,  he  became  convulsed  with  laughter,  bring- 
ing first  one  knee  nearly  up  to  his  chin,  then  the 
other,  and  slapping  them  alternately  with  his 
hands  as  he  did  so.  "Gosh!"  he  said  under  his 
breath,  "she  never  once  tumbled." 

Seldom  is  it  in  the  controversies  of  life  that 
both  sides  can  claim  a  signal  victory.  But  each 
had  that  piece  of  chicken  wire  exactly  where  each 
wanted  it,  and  Matt  had  saved  his  precious  net. 
Whether  or  not  a  flaw  of  wind  had  folded  back  a 
portion  of  the  net  or  a  deft  turn  of  the  hoe  handle 
had  prepared  it  for  Aunt  Mary's  observation, 
history  perhaps  will  never  record. 

The  mid-day  meal  was  scarcely  over  when  Mr. 
Woodhull  put  in  appearance.  There  was  an  ap- 
preciable change  in  the  man.  His  step  was  more 
elastic  and  firm  and  a  tinge  of  tan  was  on  his  face. 

51 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

Fresh  milk  and  eggs,  as  well  as  the  country  air 
and  sunshine,  were  working  their  silent  miracle 
and  his  soul  was  glad.  His  greeting  was  pleasant 
and  his  reception  most  cordial.  Matt  placed  a 
rocking  chair  for  him  in  the  shade  of  the  morning- 
glory  vines  which  clambered  in  confusion  about 
the  porch.  "Well,  my  boy,"  he  said,  "how  about 
the  perch?  I  went  down  to  the  pond  yesterday 
and  stayed  until  after  dinner  time.  I  had  some 
worms  and  I  caught  some  grasshoppers,  but  I 
didn't  get  any  fish."  "Shucks!"  said  Matt. 
"Nobody  can't  do  nothing  with  perch  in  the 
middle  of  the  day,  'cept  when  it's  rainin'  or  real 
cloudy;  'sides,  they  want  fishin'  for  close  up  to 
where  some  bushes  is  or  close  to  a  bank.  When 
you  find  where  a  wash-down  comes  from  a  field 
an'  the's  gravel  plenty,  where  the  water  goes  off 
real  deep,  it's  the  best  place  ever,  though  why  I 
do'  know.  But  to  make  sure  to  get  'em,  take  a 
cloudy  day  an'  late  an'  then  on  to  dark,  usin' 
worms  or  minnies,  'nen  if  you're  in  the  right  pond 
you  get  'em.  The's  two  kinds  of  perch  in  the  pond 
above  the  dam.  Two,  meb'e  three,  years  ago 
some  men  come  down  here  with  big  cans  and 
turned  a  lot  loose,  yellow  perch  they  said.  They've 
got  black  stripes  on  'em  run  up  an'  down,  not 
long  ways.  T'other  kind,  the  white  ones,  alius 
have  been  here,  I  guess.  I  never  heard  no  differ- 
ent." Mr.  Woodhull  smiled  at  Matt's  quaint 
manner  of  description,  then  said:  "I  met  Mr. 
Adams  this  morning,  and  he  wants  to  go  with  us 

5^ 


WAYS  OF  THE  PERCH 

some  time,  as  he  is  very  fond  of  this  kind  of  fish- 
ing. They've  been  getting  some  new  lines  and 
hooks  at  the  store.  Mr.  Adams  wanted  a  line 
for  his  reel,  and  I  bought  this  spool.  There's 
enough  on  it  for  a  good  many  lines  to  use  on  a 
pole,"  and  he  showed  the  lad  his  purchase. 
Matt's  eyes  went  wide  open.  He  had  never  used 
any  but  the  heavier  cotton  lines,  and  he  looked 
doubtfully  at  the  slender  thread-like  line.  "Might's 
well  use  a  spider  web,"  he  said.  "A  big  pike'd 
smash  it  quicker'n  scat."  "Try  it,"  said  his 
friend.  And  Matt  did  try,  first  by  a  pull  which 
he  thought  suflicient  to  break  it,  then  up  across 
his  breast,  finally  wrapping  it  around  both  hands 
and  puUing  until  the  line  was  deeply  imbedded 
in  the  flesh,  but  it  did  not  break.  "Gee!"  he 
said,  "what's  it  made  of?  Cuts  like  wire."  Mr. 
Woodhull  explained  that  it  was  made  from  Irish 
flax,  the  best  possible  material  for  a  Hne. 

Matt's  stock  of  poles  underwent  a  strong  in- 
spection that  day.  Two  of  the  very  lightest  were 
selected  for  use  in  their  coming  "perch"  excursion. 
The  "tin  blicky,"  as  Matt  termed  the  tin  pail, 
had  been  taken  by  Aunt  Mary  for  watering  the 
chickens.  It  had  been  found  in  the  little  village 
dump-heap  as  a  discard,  and  was  of  good  size  for 
a  "five  bait"  pail.  Though  battered,  it  did  not 
leak,  and  the  dents,  as  Matt  afterward  said,  were 
like  his  freckles,  "while  they  didn't  help  none, 
wasn't  in  nobody's  way."  The  boy  was  by  far 
too  good  a  judge  of  matters  to  suggest  a  substi- 

53 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

tute  for  the  pail.  The  net  incident  had  been  a 
victory,  and  now  the  least  sHp  in  diplomacy  in 
the  way  of  getting  his  pail  when  he  needed  it 
might  be  the  signal  for  the  verdict  to  let  that  pail 
stay  right  where  it  was. 

Such  decisions  must  not  be  construed  as  stub- 
bornness on  the  aunt's  part.  It  was  discipline 
and  keeping  her  house  in  order. 

A  visit  to  the  swamp  nearby  had  resulted  in 
finding  what  man  and  boy  had  agreed  would 
make  a  proper  landing  net  frame  in  the  shape  of 
a  forked  birch.  It  was  cut  and  smoothly  trimmed, 
the  two  ends  being  brought  around  and  secured 
to  a  cross  section  of  stick,  making  a  neat  oval. 
While  not  as  perfect  as  the  ones  seen  in  the  tackle 
store,  still  it  could  be  made  effective,  they  thought, 
and  that  was  sufficient.  Carefully  the  fly  net  had 
been  gone  over  and  a  section  cut  which  would  be 
ample  for  their  purpose,  allowing  a  proper  bag  for 
the  retention  of  fish,  once  they  were  taken  in. 

Matt  had  sacrificed  a  stout  line  for  use  in 
whipping  the  net  to  the  frame,  and  their  heads 
were  close  together  as,  seated  on  the  grass,  they 
wove  the  fine,  first  through  the  mesh  and  then 
around  the  frame.  As  a  boy  the  man  had  had  a 
love  for  the  great  out-doors,  but  now  it  was  taking 
hold  in  a  different  manner.  God's  sunshine 
through  woods  and  meadow  was  giving  him  life. 
Besides,  he  was  fast  imbibing  the  spirit  of  the 
healthy  country  boy,  whose  enthusiasm  was  con- 
tagious.    "This   birch   from   the  swanijis  is  good 

54 


WAYS  OF  THE  PERCH 

and  tough,"  said  Mr.  Woodhull,  as  the  lashing-on 
process  was  finished  and  he  was  bending  a  little 
here  and  there  on  the  frame  to  make  it  a  little 
more  trim  in  form.  "Gosh,  yes!"  returned  Matt, 
"so  tough  I've  wish't  more'n  once't  it  never'd 
growed.  Aunt  Mary's  handed  it  to  me  sometimes 
a-plenty,"  and  looking  up  both  saw  that  person- 
age regarding  their  work  in  a  quiet  manner,  her 
elbows  resting  on  the  fence.  Matt  grinned  a 
little,  Woodhull  laughed  outright,  and  /\unt 
Mary  said:  "I  reckon  you  never  got  more'n 
what's  healthy."  While  never  commenting  on  it, 
it  was  a  source  of  pride  with  her  to  have  the  boy 
in  the  company  of  men  of  clean  habits  and  mind 
and  not  seeking  the  comradeship  of  coarser 
characters.  While  privileged  to  go  almost  at 
will,  parts  of  days,  to  the  pond  and  creeks,  still 
an  all-day's  trip  such  as  was  contemplated  with 
the  perch  was  a  different  matter.  It  had  been 
decided  between  the  two  that  Mr.  Woodhull  was 
to  ask  concession  in  the  boy's  behalf.  The  time 
seemed  propitious  and  the  subject  was  finally 
broached.  "Land  sakes!"  was  the  response,  "it 
would  seem  that  two  grown  men  might  know 
more  about  such  things  and  not  have  a  slip  of  a 
boy  toddle  along  to  show  'em,  but,"  and  her  ar- 
gument unconsciously  carried  a  note  of  pride  at 
his  accomplishments,  "his  work  must  all  be  done 
first."  Mr.  Woodhull  was  far  too  diplomatic  to 
argue  against  any  possible  point  of  the  aunt's 
view  of  the  matter  other  than  to  show  her  that 

55 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

the  lad's  knowledge  of  fish  and  their  ways  was 
far  superior  to  his  own. 

Matt  sat  without  a  word  during  the  conversa- 
tion, digging  his  toe  into  the  ground,  as  was  his 
wont  when  thoughtful,  and,  as  he  afterward  said, 
"If  I'd  said  a  word  about  how  I  knowed  where 
and  when  fish  was,  mos'  like  she'd  said  it  was 
owin'  to  her  a-bringin'  me  up."  With  delight  the 
boy  saw  Mr.  Woodhull  fit  up  the  two  poles  with 
the  fine  line  which  he  had  brought  down,  and  he 
promised  to  see  that  the  worms  were  in  proper 
condition  when  the  great  day  arrived,  which 
really  came  on  the  third  one  from  the  day  of  the 
making  of  the  landing  net. 

Matt  had  met  Mr.  Adams  at  the  store  on  the 
evening  before,  and  as  it  gave  promise  of  unsettled 
weather  it  was  agreed,  if  the  conditions  con- 
tinued, to  meet  on  the  bridge  the  following  morn- 
ing at  an  early  hour.  Mr.  x'\dams  was  to  notify 
Mr.  Woodhull.  Matt,  while  doing  his  evening 
chores,  came  suddenly  face  to  face  with  his  bait 
pail  doing  service  to  the  chickens.  "Crickey!"  he 
said;  "it  went  plum  out'en  my  mind.  Now  most 
anythin's  good  enough  for  chicken  drinkin',  but 
Aunt  Mary's  Aunt  Mary,  an'  the's  no  tellin'  what 
she'll  say."    He  scratched  his  head  reflectively. 

Before  it  was  fully  light  the  next  morning  she 
heard  Matt  in  his  room,  then  going  lightly  down- 
stairs. By  the  time  his  work  was  done  and  he  was 
back  in  the  house  breakfast  was  ready,  much  to 
his   delight.      "1    was   thinkin',"   he   began   as  he 

56 


WAYS  OF  THE  PERCH 

drank  the  last  of  his  coffee,  "that  bein'  out  all  day 
I'd  best  take  some  old  thing  to  put  fish  in,  a'most 
anythin'll  do.  Perch  scale  mighty  hard  when  they 
dry  out;  b'sides  they're  fresher  if  wet  moss  or 
grass  is  kept  on  'em.  I  s'pose  the  old  'tin  blickey' 
I  brought  up  for  the  chickens  would  do." 

"You  never  brought  that  old  tin  pail  up  for 
chickens  more'n  I  did,"  she  snapped  back.  Matt 
felt  a  tremor  of  doubt  about  the  success  of  his 
plan.  "But,"  continued  his  aunt,  "whatever  you 
did  bring  it  from  the  old  dump-heap  for,  goodness 
knows.  I  s'pose  fish  are  better  if  kept  wet.  I 
expect  I  can  find  something  to  answer  for  a  day. 
But,"  she  added,  "you  ain't  catched  your  fish 
yet  to  put  in  the  pail."  Matt  vouchsafed  no  reply, 
but  put  on  his  coat.  "In  case  it  rains,"  he  said. 
Aunt  Mary  handed  him  a  package  which  was 
lying  on  the  table,  saying,  "You'll  want  a  bite  to 
eat  if  you  stay  all  day."  Gathering  up  his  trap- 
pings, he  set  off  for  the  bridge  with  a  light  heart. 

He  was  not  kept  waiting,  as  both  men  were  in 
sight  of  the  bridge  as  he  reached  it.  Minnows 
were  plentiful  near  the  mill,  in  shallow  water, 
where  they  hovered  safe  from  their  numerous 
enemies,  and  Matt's  "tin  blickey"  was  at  last  in 
service  as  a  minnow  pail,  after  the  lad  had  sorted 
them  over  as  to  the  right  "perch  size."  Mr. 
Adams  insisted  on  rowing  the  boat.  Matt  direct- 
ing the  course  until  they  were  well  up  to  the  head 
of  the  stream,  where  snags  and  lily  pads  were 
plentiful. 

57 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

"We'll  try  once  here,"  said  Matt.  "I've  took 
good  ones  from  around  here.  The's  big  ones  in 
this  pond  if  you'll  find  'em.  I'll  change  the  water 
on  the  minnies.  Don't  want  'em  to  turn  belly 
up;  they're  weak  when  they  do  that." 

The  boy  poured  a  quantity  of  water  from  the 
pail,  then,  scooping  with  both  hands,  threw  fresh 
water  back.  "I  do  it  that  way,"  he  said;  "seems 
to  give  'em  more  air;  anyhow  they  come  to 
quicker."  Mr.  Adams  had  a  lighter  rod  and 
smaller  reel  than  on  the  previous  day.  The  boy 
noticed  it,  but  said  nothing. 

When  ready  to  adjust  their  hooks  Mr.  Adams 
presented  the  other  two  with  snelled  New  York 
trout  hooks.  It  was  the  first  the  boy  had  ever 
seen,  and  he  examined  closely  the  neat  wrappings 
and  tied  loop.  Finally  he  asked,  "What's  that 
made  of?"  indicating  the  snell.  "That  is  gut," 
said  his  friend,  meanwhile  watching,  out  of  the 
corner  of  his  eye,  the  expression  which  came  over 
the  lad's  face.  "Whose?"  laconically  exclaimed 
Matt,  and  said  not  another  word.  He  felt  he  was 
being  joked  about  the  matter.  Both  men  laughed 
heartily,  and  then  Mr.  x^dams  explained  the 
mystery  of  the  silk  worm  gut,  at  which  he  seemed 
first  doubtful,  then  pleased.  Mr.  WoodhuU  used 
worm  bait;  the  other  two,  minnows.  Matt  hook- 
ing his  lightly  through  the  lips,  while  the  older 
man  hooked  his  through  the  skin  just  under  the 
fin  on  the  back,  Matt  contending  that  perch 
"alius  took  minnies  head  first,"  and  was  surer  to 

58 


WAYS  OF  THE  PERCH 

be  hooked  his  way.  While  bottle  corks  were  used 
by  both  Mr.  Woodhull  and  Matt,  Mr.  Adams 
had  a  slender  painted  float,  which,  with  the  light 
sinker  he  used,  balanced  nicely  in  the  water. 
Mr.  Woodhull  got  several  bites  on  the  worm  bait, 
the  cork  bobbing  along  on  the  water.  "The's 
sunnies,"  said  Matt.  "Better  fish  over  where  the 
water's  deeper.  There's  a  perch,"  he  said  quickly, 
as  Mr.  Adams'  float  went  down.  "They  never 
nibble;  they  jest  grab  it  an'  scoot.  The  white 
ones  do;  the  yellow  fellers  are  some  slower,  but 
fight  hard."  The  lad  watched  with  keen  interest 
as  Mr.  Adams  worked  the  fish  around  the  boat 
on  the  slender  rod  and  finally  boated  it  without 
the  aid  of  a  net.  It  was  of  about  a  half  pound 
weight  and  nicely  silvered  in  the  clear  water. 
The  atmosphere  was  heavy  and  threatened  rain. 
Both  men  had  light  rain  coats  with  them,  but 
Matt  had  but  little  concern  for  himself  if  fish 
would  bite.  Up  to  noon,  when  they  rowed  to  the 
bank  to  eat  their  lunch,  not  more  than  a  dozen 
fish  had  been  taken,  and  all  much  of  the  same  size 
as  the  first  one  taken  by  Mr.  Adams.  "I've  alius 
seen,"  said  the  boy,  "that  perch  are  'bout  the 
same  size  in  one  place.  Wonder  if  they're  just 
the  same  nestful  goes  together?  Seems  'ough  it 
might  be  so.  I  found  a  lot  of  stuff  once  looked 
mos'  like  jelly  on  a  stick.  Mr.  Silvers,  the  man 
at  the  mill,  said  'twas  perch  eggs  all  stuck  to- 
gether." "Perch,"  said  Mr.  Adams,  "are  widely 
distributed   all   over   the   world.      I    have    taken 

59 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

them  from  many  waters,  and  they  are  a  fine  game 
fish  for  their  size.  They  will  bite  at  a  great 
variety  of  baits,  but  in  salt  water  they  are  partial 
to  shrimps."  "I  never  knowed  they  went  into 
salt  water,"  said  Matt  earnestly.  "Oh,  yes,"  re- 
sponded Mr.  x'\dams,  "I  have  seen  tons  of  them 
that  were  taken  in  nets  in  the  bays  at  different 
points,  and  they  have  been  found  with  herrings  in 
the  open  ocean,  although  I  hav^e  never  heard  of  the 
yellow  perch  being  anywhere  but  in  fresh  water. 

"To  keep  our  shrimps  alive  we  get  very  fine  saw- 
dust and  cover  them.  They  live  well,  sometimes 
two  days  or  even  longer.  The  Delaware  River 
fairly  swarms  with  them,  and  great  quantities  are 
taken  there  every  year. 

"Around  old  piling  or  patches  of  lily  pads, 
anywhere  where  the  current  is  not  swift,  they  are 
to  be  found.  They  will  bite  at  almost  any  kind 
of  bait  there,  bits  of  clam  cut  up,  fish  worms,  or 
live  minnows,  but  their  favorite  is  always  shrimp. 
And  it  is  strange,  when  I  think  of  it,  I  have  never 
seen  as  large  ones  from  salt  water  as  from  lakes 
or  ponds  like  this."  "Well,  the's  big  ones  in  here 
if  we  can  find  'em,"  said  Matt,  "an'  we'll  try 
t'other  side  of  the  pond.  The's  a  wash-down 
from  a  hill  there  by  the  big  oak  an'  a  gravel  point 
runs  out  to  deep  water."  Matt,  standing  up  in 
the  boat  as  they  went  across,  as  he  said,  "to  get 
the  p'ints."  "The's  never  no  sense,"  he  said, 
"sloshin'  'round  in  the  water  when  fishin'  for 
perch.     They  scare  easy.     There,  don't  pull  no 

60 


WAYS  OF  THE  PERCH 

more;  jest  let  the  boat  swim  in  herself."  And 
quietly  lowering  the  weight  overboard  which 
served  as  an  anchor,  they  came  to  rest.  Matt 
had  changed  the  water  several  times  on  the  min- 
nows, and  they  were  active  in  the  pail. 

From  where  they  sat  they  could  plainly  see 
the  gravel  where  it  had  been  washed  down  into 
the  water,  and  they  began  fishing  in  the  deep 
water  nearby.  "The  stiller  we  keep  the  better,  as 
we  are  in  the  open  here,"  observed  Mr.  Adams. 
"As  Matt  says,  they  scare  easily  sometimes." 
"I  told  you  the  big  ones  was  here,"  said  Matt, 
as  his  float  went  under  with  a  rush  and  the  whip- 
like pole  went  double  and  the  hne  cut  the  water 
around  the  boat.  "G'mme  the  net."  But  sud- 
denly the  pole  went  straight  again  and  float  and 
hook  sprang  up  in  the  air.  "Gosh  a'mighty,  he's 
gone!"  said  the  boy.  "He's  an'  old  buster."  And 
he  examined  the  hook  critically,  as  if  to  find  some 
fault  there.  With  hook  again  in  the  water,  if  a 
close  watch  had  been  made  on  his  movements  it 
would  have  been  seen  that  he  never  permitted 
his  rig  to  be  completely  at  rest;  just  a  slight  move- 
ment with  tip  of  rod  was  kept  up,  and  it  was  not 
long  before  "There  she  goes  again"  was  heard, 
and  again  the  pole  was  double  and  an  excited  boy 
was  swinging  first  one  way,  then  another,  keeping 
a  taut  line  on  the  hooked  fish.  "Git  the  net,"  he 
said,  and  for  the  first  time  their  improvised  net 
was  brought  into  use  and,  as  Mr.  Woodhull  said, 
it  worked  Hke  a  charm.    Matt  added  "Good  as  a 

6i 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

boughten  one."  The  perch  was  a  beauty,  at 
least  one  and  a  half  pounds  in  weight  and  beau- 
tifully marked.  Matt  was  triumphant.  "As  big 
as  ever  I  catched,"  he  said.  In  the  confusion  and 
admiration  of  the  fish  other  tackle  was  for  a  mo- 
ment forgotten,  and  of  a  sudden  Mr.  WoodhuU's 
reel  screeched  and  the  light  rod  went  overboard 
with  a  rush,  but  was  caught  just  as  the  butt 
struck  the  water,  and  such  a  battle  as  that  little 
rod  had!  Skillful  handling,  however,  saved  the 
day  and  the  fighting  fish  was  brought  to  the  net, 
a  mate  for  Matt's.  "Now,"  said  the  latter, 
"don't  thrash  around  in  the  boat  none,  and  we'll 
get  some."  It  was  a  great  catch  of  beautiful  fish 
they  made  that  day  and  one  long  remembered  by 
the  three  and  often  talked  over.  A  few  large 
yellow  perch  were  taken  just  before  dusk,  as  they 
moved  away  from  where  they  had  taken  the 
white  ones,  the  first  being  taken  by  Mr.  Wood- 
hull,  who  was  trolling  his  bait  behind  the  boat. 
They  halted  and  fished  the  grounds  over.  The 
strike  could  be  told  easily  as  being  slower,  but  the 
fighting  quality  was  equal  to  the  one  put  up  by 
their  silvery  cousins.  Mr.  WoodhuU  soon  gave 
up  the  use  of  worms  and  used  minnows,  keeping 
his  end  of  the  boat  well  represented. 

Just  as  they  were  quitting — in  fact,  both  Mr. 
Adams  and  Matt  had  their  tackle  put  up — Mr. 
Woodhull  received  a  strike  which  sent  a  thrill 
through  them  all,  the  line  cutting  the  water  at  all 
angles  and  with  a  speed   that  was  phenomenal. 

62 


WAYS  OF  THE  PERCH 

The  pliant  pole  was  doubled  sidewise  and  all 
shapes,  as  Matt  said.  Then  a  pickerel  of  at  least 
five  pounds  leaped  into  the  air  and  was  off  like 
a  flash.  "Gosh  a'mighty,  what  a  pike!"  yelled 
Matt.  'T  knowed  the's  big  ones  here.  Pity  you 
had  on  a  little  hook.  I  seen  a  man  catch  one 
right  over  there  one  day,  weighed  six  pounds  and 
a  half.  Applegate,  his  name  was;  we  called  him 
Gentleman  John.  He  was  alius  dressed  up  like  a 
dude.  I've  seen  him  fishin'  in  the  rain  with  a 
plug  hat  on.  Say,  it  looked  funny,"  and  Matt 
giggled.  The  more  the  two  men  were  with  the  lad 
the  more  they  were  impressed  with  his  sterling 
worth.  Uncouth  as  he  was  and  often  unkeiiipt, 
there  was  ever  with  him  the  impress  of  sincerity 
and  never  a  trace  of  vulgarity. 

He  was  ever  quick  to  see  the  humorous  side  of 
a  matter,  and  generally  had  a  quaint  quip  to 
help  the  matter  along. 

"When  the  water  cools  down  some  we'll  go 
pikin'  over  these  ponds  some  day,  an'  if  we  don't 
find  'em  in  one  we  will  in  t'other.  Seems  'ough 
they  go  over  a  dam  when  the  water's  runnin' 
plenty.     Wonder  if  they  do.''"   continued  Matt. 

Good-nights  were  said,  but  not  until  they  had 
seen  that  Mr.  Silvers,  the  owner  of  the  mill  and 
boat,  had  a  liberal  supply  of  fish.  Then  each 
passed  on  to  their  respective  domiciles. 

"Nor  let  the  Muse  in  her  award  of  fame  ^ 
Illustrious  Perch,  unnoticed  -pass  thy  claim.^' 

63 


CHAPTER  V 

Catching  and  Spearing  Suckers 

Near  the  town  of  S ,  in  Central  New  Jersey, 

there  runs  a  tiny  stream  of  water.  At  that  point 
it  is  not  more  than  four  feet  wide,  but  is  very 
active,  being  a  spring-fed  stream.  Its  course  is 
due  east  and  runs  on  through  what  has  for  gen- 
erations been  known  as  the  Great  Meadows  and 
Turkey  Swamp.  Perhaps  not  a  half  mile  of  its 
course  but  is  augmented  by  other  streams  flowing 
into  it,  until  it  assumes  the  dignity  of  a  creek 
about  five  miles  from  its  source.  It  comprises 
the  drainage  system  of  a  large  section  of  wild  as 
well  as  good  farming  land  along  its  course.  At 
the  time  written  of  there  were  seven  flourishing 
flour  and  sawmills  receiving  power  from  the 
stream,  supplying  the  needs  of  a  thrifty  and  pop- 
ulous community.  Below  these  the  stream 
broadens  out  and  is  known  as  Manasquan  River, 
which  has  always  been  productive  of  much  fish 
life  and  a  favorite  resort  for  anglers. 

The  little  hamlet  where  Matt  lived  with  his 
aunt  had  suffered  under  several  rather  lugubrious 
names,  such  as  Spattown,  Fiddlers  Green,  and 
Buckshutem.  There  were  but  few  houses  and 
one  small  country  store,  and  for  many  years  it 
knew  no  change  either  in  numbers  or  appearance. 

64 


CATCHING  SUCKERS 

The  store,  as  in  all  such  places,  was  the  meeting- 
place  in  the  evenings  of  men  as  well  as  of  larger 
boys,  and  gossip  complimentary  and  otherwise 
was  rife  concerning  neighborhood  affairs. 

The  evening  following  the  perch-fishing  expedi- 
tion Matt  had  been  sent  to  the  store  for  some 
commodity,  carrying  a  small  basket  of  eggs  with 
which  to  pay  for  his  purchases.  Seated  on  a  box 
in  the  store  was  a  boy  named  Southard,  older 
and  much  larger  than  Matt,  who  was  at  times 
inclined  to  be  quarrelsome  and  something  of  a 
bully.  "Gettin'  a  little  high  and  mighty  with 
your  fishin',  ain't  ye.  Matt?"  he  asked  as  the  boy 
came  through  the  door.  "Seems  if  men  wouldn't 
want  a  freckle-face  taggin'  along  with  'em,  any- 
how. Ketched  any  suckers  yet.^"  "No,  I  ain't," 
came  the  answer  with  some  spirit.  "I  ain't  tried 
yet;  didn't  know  you'd  bite."  This  witty  sally 
was  greeted  with  a  roar  of  laughter  by  all  present 
except  Southard,  who,  quick  as  a  flash,  kicked  the 
basket  from  the  hand  of  Matt,  sending  the  eggs 
in  all  directions.  For  a  moment  the  boy  stood 
aghast,  then  grabbing  with  both  hands  the  curly 
hair  of  his  tormentor,  he  sent  his  head  back  with 
a  wicked  thump  against  the  counter.  Both  went' 
to  the  floor  snarling  hke  a  pair  of  cats.  Matt  hold- 
ing Hke  grim  death  to  the  locks  of  his  antagonist. 
Strong  hands,  however,  soon  separated  the  com- 
batants, and  Matt,  crestfallen  at  his  misfortune, 
stood  looking  ruefully  at  the  wreckage. 

His  mental  vision  instantly  conjuring  up  Aunt 

6  65 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

Mary  and  her  wrath,  for  well  he  knew  how  hard 
it  would  be  to  convince  her  of  his  exact  part  in 
the  affair.  The  storekeeper  was  naturally  angry- 
over  the  melee,  soundly  berating  the  larger  boy 
for  his  attack  and  not  altogether  excusing  Matt 
for  his  pertness  of  speech.  The  two  boys  were 
compelled  to  clean  up  the  debris. 

"How  many  eggs  did  you  have,  and  what  were 
you  sent  for?"  he  asked  a  little  shortly,  his  mind 
being  still  in  a  trifle  rufiled  condition.  Matt  told 
him,  and  counting  the  unbroken  eggs,  he  pro- 
ceeded to  tie  up  the  articles  wanted  and  put  them 
into  Matt's  basket.  "Fm  going  to  put  the  balance 
of  this  matter  in  your  father's  account,"  he  said, 
turning  to  the  larger  boy,  "an'  when  he  asks  me 
about  it  I'll  tell  him  the  whole  story."  "He 
called  me  a  sucker  an' — "  "I  didn't  call  you  no 
sucker,"  broke  in  Matt  sharply.  "I  said  I  didn't 
know  if  you'd  bite  like  one,  but  you  did."  Here 
was  open  rebellion  again.  The  boys  stood  glaring 
at  each  other.  Suddenly  Southard  turned  on  his 
heel  and  without  another  word  strode  from  the 
store.  Matt  lingered  for  a  few  minutes,  then 
went  out.  Instead  of  going  the  usual  way,  he 
cut  across  an  apple  orchard  back  of  the  store, 
then  down  a  hedge  which  grew  along  a  back  lot 
and  so  home.  Meanwhile  he  had  kept  ears  and 
eyes  open  for  sight  or  sound  of  his  enemy,  for 
well  he  knew,  as  he  expressed  it,  a  "wallopin'  was 
waitin'  for  him,  an'  he  didn't  know  as  he  wanted 
to  be  trimmed."     Before  going  into  the  house  he 

66 


CATCHING   SUCKERS 

sat  down  on  the  woodpile  and  reviewed  the  whole 
affair.  x\t  first  he  thought  he  would  say  nothing 
to  his  aunt  about  it,  but  then  he  reflected  that  it 
was  sure  to  reach  her  ears  somehow,  and  he  de- 
termined to  tell  her  all,  just  as  it  happened. 
Aunt  Mary  was  sitting  on  the  porch,  for  the 
evening  was  warm.  She  had  seen  him  when  he 
went  to  the  woodpile,  but  had  not  called  to  him. 
"Seems  like  it  took  you  a  mortal  while  just  to 
go  to  the  store,"  she  remarked,  as  he  sat  down 
on  the  edge  of  the  porch  floor  and  shoved  the 
basket  back  of  him.  "Well,"  he  said,  "it's  warm 
an'  I  didn't  hurry  none."  Then,  after  a  pause: 
"  'Sides  that  I  had  a  fight."  Aunt  Mary's  feet 
came  down  with  a  thump  and  she  sat  bolt  up- 
right in  her  chair.  "Matt  Buckley!"  she  said  with 
energy.  "Has  it  got  so  you  can't  go  to  the  store 
without  gitten'  twisted  into  a  snarl  with  some- 
body over  the  land  knows  what?"  "I  guess  if 
somebody  kicked  a  basket  of  eggs  plum'  outen' 
your  hand  'thout  cause  you'd  a  twisted  into  a 
snarl,  too,"  he  answered.  "  'Sides  that,  'twas 
your  eggs  I  fit  over."  Then  he  told  her  his  story, 
and  how  the  storekeeper  had  charged  the  value 
of  the  broken  eggs  to  Southard's  father.  "I 
won't  have  nothin'  o'  mine  charged  to  no- 
body," she  answered  wrathfully,  "just  account 
of  plain  onriness."  "Well,  'tain't  no  fault  of 
mine  'cause  it's  charged,"  said  Matt.  "If  you'd 
a  seen  them  eggs  go  whizzin'  all  over  the  store 
you'd  a    thought   somebody   must   pay   for    'em 

67 


FISHING   WITH   A    BOY 

'sides  me."  x'\nd  the  boy  walked  into  the  house 
and  on  to  bed. 

"I  was  up  to  the  store  this  morning,"  said  the 
aunt,  "and  found  out  about  them  eggs,"  as  iNIatt 
returned  from  an  errand  to  a  distant  neighbor 
just  before  noon  the  next  day.  "You  ain't  blamed 
much,  'cept  your  tongue  was  pert."  "I  never 
had  a  sucker  bite  yet  that  I  didn't  yank,"  said 
Matt  quietly,  "an'  alius  'spect  to."  "I  seen  Mr. 
Woodhull  in  the  store,"  continued  his  aunt, 
"and  he  said  he  was  comin'  over  after  dinner, 
but  what  he  keeps  taggin'  after  a  boy  all  the  time 
for  beats  me."  "That  kind  o'  talk  started  a  fight 
once,"  said  Matt  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye.  Aunt 
Mary  laughed  and  the  boy  giggled.  "Anyways 
when  he  first  come  here  he  looked  so  white  and 
pinched  up  I  kind  a  wanted  to  help  him,  and  I 
ain't  objected  none  to  you  goin'  with  him.  I  felt 
some  out-of-doors  would  do  him  good."  "Now 
lissen  to  that,  will  you?"  said  the  boy  to  himself 
as  he  went  out  to  the  shed.  "Aunt  Mary's  curin' 
of  him  by  not  stoppin'  me  from  goin'  fishin'. 
Gosh,  but  she's  got  notions!" 

"You'll  find  him  out  by  the  shed,"  she  said  to 
Mr.  Woodhull,  after  a  few  minutes'  conversation 
in  the  afternoon.  "He's  tinkerin'  at  something." 
He  found  the  boy  busily  engaged  in  fastening  a 
fish  spear  into  the  end  of  a  maple  pole  about  ten 
feet  long.  He  was  driving  a  ring  or  ferrule  down 
so  as  to  hold  it  firmly  in  place,  and  did  not  see 
his  friend  until  he  was  close  to  him.    He  was  per- 

68 


CATCHING  SUCKERS 

spiring  freely  and  his  hat  was  on  the  grass  by  his 
knees. 

"The  ol'  gig  handle  was  'bout  played  out,"  he 
began,  "an'  so  I  cut  this  un.  1  left  it  a  little 
longer'n  t'other.  A  foot  or  so  don't  hurt  none 
when  you're  shinin'  suckers.  You  can  reach 
further."  The  gig,  as  Matt  persisted  in  calling 
the  spear,  was  a  four-prong  affair  of  rustic  build, 
evidently  by  the  hand  of  some  country  black- 
smith. The  prongs  were  a  trifle  more  than  four 
inches  long,  with  a  barb  cut  near  the  points.  It 
had  been  given  to  him  by  a  man  moving  from  the 
place,  and  was  a  cherished  object.  "I've  got 
loads  of  suckers  with  her,"  he  said  after  a  pause, 
and  then  proceeded  to  give  Mr.  Woodhull  a  gen- 
eral idea  of  the  process  of  giggin'  suckers.  "You 
get  'em  sometimes  in  the  day  if  you're  careful  an' 
quick,  but  vou  have  to  roust  'em  out  from  sods 
an'  roots  with  the  gig,  'nen  hit  'em  quick;  but  the 
best  time  is  nights.  They're  on  the  go  all  night, 
an'  if  you  shine  'em  right  they  lay  right  still. 
Seems  'ough  you  could  pick  'em  up  with  your 
hand  if  the  water  wasn't  too  deep.  An'  frogs,"  he 
went  on,  "is  perfec'  fools.  Shine  'em  right  and 
you  can  pick  'em  up  like  a  stone."  To  Mr. 
Woodhull  "shinin',"  as  Matt  called  it,  was  a  new 
procedure  and  he  was  curious  about  it.  "It's  this 
way,"  he  explained:  "This  time  o'  the  year  the 
suckers  run  up  in  all  these  brooks  from  the  river 
where  they  winter  bed.  They  lay  in  the  big  holes 
in  the  creek  in  the  daytime  'nen  go  up  the  small 

69 


FISHING   WITH   A   BOY 

brooks  at  night  where  the  water's  cold  to  lay  their 
eggs;  seems  'ough  they  do,  'sides  I  never  gigged 
one  in  the  daytime  with  eggs.  Seems  if  it's  the 
he  ones  lays  'round  under  the  bushes  an'  sods,  the 
mother  suckers  comin'  up  from  the  deep  water 
on'y  nights.  I've  seen  'em  more'n  once,  a  lot 
together  where  grass  was  or  meb'e  a  bush  an' 
the  water'd  look  like  milk.  I  never  gig  'em  that 
way;  looks  like  murder  to  me;  'sides  eels  eats  lots 
of  their  eggs.  I  alius  gig  an  eel.  Me  an'  Aunt 
Mary  like  'em  bettern'  suckers,  but  she  won't 
cook  frogs.  'Frenchies,'  she  call  'em,  but  I  don't 
know  why."  Mr.  Woodhull  explained  that  the 
French  people  considered  frogs  a  great  delicacy, 
and  that  great  numbers  of  them  were  sold  in  our 
own  cities.  "Could  I  sell  'em?"  asked  Matt 
eagerly.  "You  can  sell  all  you  can  catch,"  he 
was  told.  "The  large  ones  sell  best  and  always 
bring  good  prices."  "Why,  the's  bushels  of  'em 
around  here.  Seems  'ough  it  might  pay  better'n 
berryin'." 

Mr.  Woodhull  told  him  if  he  wanted  to  try  it 
he  would  show  him  how  they  had  them  dressed 
in  the  markets,  and  that  he  knew  of  an  eating 
house  where  they  made  a  specialty  of  such  del- 
icacies and  that  they  would  probably  take  all  he 
could  gather. 

The  fish  spear  having  been  securely  fastened 
in  the  handle,  Matt  proceeded  to  file  the  point 
to  his  liking,  then,  turning  it  over  and  back,  said: 
"She'll   do,"   and   }ilaced   it   to  one  side.     "Ever 

70 


CATCHING  SUCKERS 

try  asafitdy  on  worms?"  he  asked,  looking  care- 
fully around  to  see  if  the  coast  was  clear.  "Aunt 
Mary  alius  has  a  little  mixed  for  the  chickens,  an' 
I  put  a  little  on  the  worms  when  I  go  suckerin'. 
They  take  them  prime.  But  why  they  do  the 
Lord  knows:  it  smells  fit  to  kill  'em  'stid  o'  catchin' 
'em.  We'd  better  take  poles  a  little  stiffer'n 
what  we  used  for  perch,"  and  he  began  sorting 
out  what  he  wished.  "Suckers  is  heavier  to  lift 
outen  the  water.  We  might's  well  be  goin',"  he 
said.  "We'll  fish  along  the  creek  for  'em  till  near 
dark,  'nen  go  spearin'."  He  packed  up  a  can  of 
worms,  after  "dosin'  'em"  a  little  with  Aunt 
Mary's  asafoetida.  "Better  take  all  the  hooks 
we  used  for  catties  along,  the  2-0  ones,  as  there's 
roots  an'  snags,  and  like's  not  we'll  lose  some. 

"I'll  get  my  shinin'  jack  now,"  he  said.  "No 
use  comin'  clean  back  for  it."  From  the  shed  he 
produced  an  innovation  of  his  boyish  ingenuity. 
It  consisted  of  a  section  of  a  stove  grate  firmly 
lashed  to  a  forked  maple  with  wire.  On  this  was 
to  be  carried  the  fire  to  do  the  "shinin'."  Next, 
his  hatchet,  which  was  one  of  his  most  cherished 
possessions.  He  had  earned  it  by  turning  a  lathe 
for  the  wheelwright  at  different  times.  With  it 
he  cut  and  drove  stakes  for  his  muskrat  traps, 
and  it  was  very  useful  in  many  ways.  To  carry 
it  he  had  improvised  a  strap  which  he  fastened 
to  his  suspenders  at  the  back,  so  it  would  not  be 
in  his  way.  He  next  brought  out  a  coarse  bag 
that  was  not  very  sightly  and  smelled  audibly  of 

71 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

former  trips.  "They  carry  easier  in  this  than  in  a 
basket  when  you  get  *em,"  he  said.  About  3 
P.  M.  they  started  for  the  creek,  which  was  not 
the  one  mentioned  in  former  chapters.  At  least 
a  mile  separated  them  and  they  flowed  in  different 
directions. 

As  they  passed  through  the  meadows  the  boy 
paused  to  cut  with  his  hatchet  a  long  root,  black- 
ened by  fire,  which  had  run  through  the  dead  grass 
at  a  previous  date.  As  usual,  Mr.  Woodhull  was 
interested  and  asked  what  purpose  he  intended  it 
for.  "Goin'  to  have  some  fun  if  I  can  find  what 
I  want,"  he  replied,  and  said  nothing  further  at 
the  time.  On  coming  to  a  pool  of  dead  water  in 
the  meadow,  the  boy  began  looking  earnestly 
along  the  water.  "Hoi'  on,"  he  said.  "Now  stan' 
still  an'  watch."  Stretching  himself  flat  on  the 
ground,  he  wormed  forward,  pushing  the  root  in 
front  of  him,  weaving  the  end  in  and  out  around 
the  bunches  of  grass  at  the  water's  edge.  Sud- 
denly a  creaking  "scape"  came  from  the  ground 
and  a  large  frog  bounded  into  the  air,  its  long  legs 
trailing  behind,  and  at  each  leap  emitted  the 
same  plaintive  cry  until,  finding  a  place  evidently 
suited  to  its  purpose  and  far  enough  from  its 
dreaded  imaginary  pursuer,  it  plunged  headfore- 
most into  the  water,  where  nothing  was  to  be 
seen  save  a  roiled  place  where  it  had  quickly 
buried  itself  in  the  mud.  The  lad  rolled  over  on 
his  back  and  giggled  and  the  man  laughed  out- 
right.    "Thought    a    blacksnake    was    after    him 

7^ 


CATCHING  SUCKERS 

sure,"  he  said.  "If  you  get  'em  headed  away  from 
water  they'll  jump  clean  across  a  field,  cryin'  like 
babies.  Gosh!  didn't  he  go?  Frogs  is  nachul 
born  fools,  anyway,"  he  continued.  "You  can 
ketch  'em  with  a  little  red  rag  tied  to  a  fishin' 
hook  an'  swing  it  in  front  of  'em.  The  first  time 
it  passes  they'll  stretch  up  an'  their  eyes'll  bulge 
out,  'nen  when  it  comes  back,  plop!  an'  you  got 
him.  They  alius  comes  with  both  forefeet  holdin' 
tight  to  the  sides  of  their  heads  hke  an  old  woman 
with  the  headache.  Gosh,  but  they  look  funny!" 
Before  reaching  the  place  where  they  were  to 
begin  fishing  they  crossed  a  small  brook  on  a  log. 
As  they  did  so,  several  fish  of  nearly  a  foot  in 
length  went  swiftly  upstream,  their  backs  making 
a  decided  wake  in  the  shallow  water.  "Are  they 
trout?"  asked  Mr.  WoodhuU  excitedly,  as  he 
watched  them  go.  "Naw,"  said  Matt  in  disgust. 
"Them's  on'y  chub  suckers — chubs,  we  call  'em. 
They're  no  good  'cept  to  throw  sticks  at  an'  see 
'em  go.  You  alius  see  'em  in  shoal  water,  'nen 
they  dodge  an'  hide.  Two  men  who  was  fishin' 
here  las'  summer  called  'em  'stone  rollers.'  What 
for  I  don't  know.  They  said  you  could  take  a  red 
raspberry  and  put  it  on  a  small  hook  an'  thread 
an'  float  it  downstream  just  'fore  dark,  an'  the 
fish  would  grab  it;  meb'e  they  was  stringin'  me. 
But,"  he  added,  "if  you  did  you  would  on'y  be 
swappin'  good  ras'berries  for  nothin'  but  bones." 
The  lad's  similes  were  sometimes  crude  and  usually 
quaint,  but  always  wholesome  and  carried  points 

73 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

for  reflection.    "This  is  where  I  gen'ly  try  first  for 
'em.     Sometimes  they're  here,  but  they  change 
about  a  lot.    They's  holes  all  down  stream  from 
here.     You  alius  find  'em  where  the  water  don't 
run  swift  an'  where  it  just  turns  round  'n  round, 
washin'  in  the  things  they  feed  on,  I  guess.     I 
don't  put  the  hook  clean  through  the  worm,  just 
loop  it  through  'bout  twice  an'  let  the  end  hang 
down  an'  wiggle.    They  see  it  better;  'nen  I  move 
my  cork  a  few  inches  at  a  time  'til  the  hook  swims 
clear   of   the    bottom.      Suckers    is    alius    feedin' 
there;  you  never  find  'em  near  the  top."     The 
two  seated  themselves  on   the  grass,  which  was 
flecked  here  and  there  with  patches  of  cowslips 
and  violets.     Across  the  creek  clusters  of  prim- 
roses nodded  in  the  gentle  summer  breeze.     All 
nature  seemed  at  rest  and  the  soul  of  the  man 
cried  aloud  for  joy.    He  was  living  close  to  nature's 
heart  now,  and  she  was  paying  him  in  coin  richer 
far  than  mined  gold  in  the  way  of  returning  health. 
He   was   seeking  no  sensational   catch   of  scaled 
beauties  that  early  summer  afternoon.     He  was 
only  in  quest  of  the  humblest  of  fishes;  yet  a  very 
Paradise  of  beauty  and  repose  was  all  about  him. 
Besides,  the  boy  was  there,  a  cheerful  setting  of 
enthusiasm  and  freckles.     "I've  got  a  nibble  of 
something,"  he  said  quietly,  and  the  attention  of 
the  lad  was  drawn  from  where  it  had  been  riveted 
on  the  gyrations  of  a  large  hawk  above  the  ad- 
jacent swamp.     "That  ain't  no  nibble,"  he  said 
quickly;  "that's  a  sucker  bite.     Pull  up!     They 

74 


CATCHING  SUCKERS 

never  bite  no  more'n  that."  When  he  raised  his 
pole  he  reahzed  a  fish  was  hooked.  Then  he  saw 
a  gleaming  side  flash  the  length  of  the  pool,  then 
round,  slowly  back  and  forth  and  come  to  the 
surface.  Not  a  very  game  fish  for  one  of  two 
pounds,  still  it  was  catching  fish,  and  a  kind  he 
had  never  caught  before.  He  examined  with  a 
good  deal  of  curiosity  the  peculiar  mouth  which 
was  under  its  chin,  and  very  small  for  such  a 
sized  fish.  It  was  heavy  with  spawn,  which  exuded 
when  held  in  the  hand.  "That  fish  would  be  up 
the  brook  to-night,  layin'  her  eggs,"  said  Matt, 
"an'  if  all  the  eggs  should  hatch  an'  grow  the 
brooks  couldn't  hold  'em;  must  be  a  lot  wasted 
somehow."  Two  more  fish  were  taken  from  the 
same  pool,  and  when  no  more  seemed  to  be  there 
they  moved  on  down  the  stream  to  where  the 
brook  ran  in,  where,  as  Matt  said,  they  would  go 
"giggin'."  Here  a  large  pool  was  formed  by  the 
action  of  the  waters  meeting,  and  several  large 
fish  were  taken.  Mr.  Woodhull,  getting  foul  of  a 
snag  or  root,  lost  a  hook,  and  later  on  Matt  had 
the  same  experience. 

"What  do  you  use  for  making  your  light  when 
spearing  fish?"  asked  his  companion,  as  night  was 
drawing  on.  "That's  what  I  brought  the  hatchet 
for,"  was  the  answer.  "Right  across  from  where 
we  are  is  an  ol'  pine  stump.  Many  a  lot  of  fat 
I've  got  from  her."  And  going  over  on  a  log 
which  lay  across  the  creek,  he  was  soon  at  work 
splitting  such  pieces  as  he  needed.    Returning,  he 

75 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

then  worked  them  up  finer,  and  when  satisfied 
with  the  result,  put  the  fat  pine  in  the  bag,  after 
shaking  out  a  pair  of  dilapidated  shoes  he  had 
put  in  at  the  shed.  "Keeps  my  feet  from  gittin' 
snagged  when  wadin',''  he  said. 

When  all  was  ready  they  leaned  their  poles 
against  a  tree  and  then  crossed  over  the  creek, 
going  to  where  the  brook  emptied,  and  then  Matt 
made  his  fire  on  the  jack,  using  small  splinters  to 
start  with  and  larger  ones  as  the  fire  took  hold. 
"Don't  have  to  have  a  big  fire,"  he  said,  as  he 
stepped  into  the  brook,  "just  enough  to  keep  it 
bright.  You  walk  along  the  bank  an'  hold  it  just 
so  the  light  is  in  the  center.  Keep  it  a  little  ahead 
of  me,  an'  when  I  say  'hoi'  on,'  why,  stop.  There's 
some  bushes  all  along;  you'll  have  to  go  'round 
'em  an'  I'll  ketch  up."  They  had  not  proceeded 
far  when  Matt  gave  his  signal.  "The's  two  right 
ahead,"  he  said.  "Stan'  still  with  the  light,"  and 
he  moved  with  caution  through  the  water.  Sud- 
denly he  poised  the  spear  and  plunged  it  sharply 
into  the  water.  There  was  a  splash,  and  a  good 
sized  fish  was  thrown  out  on  the  bank.  "Kin  you 
see  'em?"  asked  Matt  eagerly,  as  more  fish  moved 
out  into  the  light.  "When  you  do,  keep  it  right 
over  'em  an'  they'll  stop."  Fish  after  fish  was 
taken,  and  Mr.  Woodhull  grew  enthusiastic  over 
the  sport  fully  as  much  as  when  taking  them  on 
the  hook.  The  excitement  of  spotting  them  with 
the  light  and  then  seeing  them  struck  with  the 
spear  was  exhilarating.     Here   was   a  man   who 

76 


CATCHING  SUCKERS 

only  a  few  short  weeks  before  was  almost  an  in- 
valid now  threshing  around  in  the  night,  shouting 
like  a  schoolboy  over  success  or  failure  of  a  stroke 
of  the  spear  at  a  brook  sucker.  At  Matt's  sug- 
gestion each  fish,  when  thrown  out,  received  a 
sharp  rap  over  the  head.  "So  it  will  be  where  we 
leave  it  when  we  come  back,"  he  said,  "as  we  can 
only  gig  up-stream;  the  water  is  too  riley  to  work 
back;  'sides,  the  fish  would  be  working  the  wrong 
way."  While  arranging  the  light  Mr.  Woodhull 
asked  the  boy  what  use  he  could  make  of  so  many 
fish  at  one  time.  "Why,  I  alius  get  somethin' 
outen  'em  from  somebody  who  wants  fish  at  this 
time  of  the  year.  Before  the  water  gets  too  warm 
they  are  good,  and  they  will  take  'em  at  some 
price.  "Hoi'  your  hght  right  still  now.  See  that 
big  frog?  I'll  pick  him  right  up.  See?"  and,  suit- 
ing the  action  to  the  word,  he  held  up  an  immense 
frog,  struggling  hard  to  get  free.  "Ain't  they  the 
dummies,  'ough?"  he  asked.  In  shallow  water 
the  reflection  of  a  bright  light  on  the  back  of  a 
fish  gives  off  a  bluish  glare  and  makes  a  promi- 
nent mark  for  the  spear.  "I  guess  we've  got 
enough,"  Matt  remarked.  "The  goin'  is  harder 
on  up,  'sides,  we  won't  want  to  carry  any  more. 
Bet  we've  got  fifty  pounds  now.  The's  no  eels 
around  to-night  much,"  he  added.  "Ain't  seen 
but  two,  and  they  were  small  ones.  Sometimes 
the's  plenty." 

So  back  they  went  on  the  same  course,  gather- 
ing the  fish  in  the  old  bag,  their  jack  giving  plenty 

77 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

of  light  for  the  purpose.  Matt  had  crossed  the 
creek  in  advance,  carrying  the  hsh,  and  had  put 
them  down  when  Mr.  Woodhull  heard  a  startled 
scream  from  the  boy,  and  he  threw  up  the  light 
in  time  to  see  Matt's  body  disappear  from  view 
in  the  murky  waters  and  an  indistinct  form  go 
scurrying  across  the  meadow. 


78 


CHAPTER  VI 

Bobbing  for  Eels  and  Selling  Frogs 

Mr.  Woodhull  was  thoroughly  alarmed  when 
he  saw  Matt  take  his  involuntary  plunge  in  the 
creek,  as  it  was  at  the  spot  where  they  had  fished 
during  the  afternoon  and  he  knew  the  water  was 
deep;  besides,  he  had  no  knowledge  as  to  whether 
the  lad  could  swim  or  not.  There  was  also  the 
danger  that  he  might  strike  a  snag  or  other  ob- 
struction in  the  water.  He  kept  the  jacklight 
thrown  on  the  water  as  he  crossed  on  the  tree 
trunk,  and  was  delighted  to  see  the  lad  come  to 
the  surface  and  strike  out  vigorously  for  the  bank, 
apparently  uninjured.  He  gave  him  a  helping 
hand  as  he  scrambled  up  the  bank,  where  he 
stood  a  minute,  a  picture  of  righteous  wrath  and 
disgust.  "I  do'  know,"  he  began,  as  soon  as  he 
had  cleared  his  throat  of  mud  and  water,  "who 
done  it.  I  just  set  the  bag  of  suckers  down  by 
the  tree  when,  quick's  a  flash,  he  grabbed  me  by 
the  neck  an'  one  leg,  an'  when  I  yelped  he  ducked 
me  in.  Gosh!  I  didn't  know's  anybody  was  so 
mean;  'sides.  Aunt  Mary'll  meb'e  stop  my  fishin'." 
The  night  air  was  cold,  and  as  the  boy  soon  gave 
evidence  of  being  chilled,  they  hurried  their  de- 
parture, walking  as  rapidly  as  the  traps  which 

79 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

they  had  to  carry  would  permit  and  reached  the 
cottage  before  Aunt  Mary  had  retired.  That 
personage  was  horrified  and,  as  usual,  somewhat 
critical.  "It  comes  along  of  your  gettin'  into  a 
fight,"  she  said  excitedly.  "Good  lands!  you're 
wet  as  a  rat.  I'll  make  a  cup  o'  tea  and  you  go 
change  your  clothes  while  I  do  it."  While  Matt 
was  upstairs  Mr.  Woodhull  gave  a  full  statement 
of  the  affair,  assuring  the  aunt  that  there  had  been 
no  dispute,  and  that  neither  had  been  given  op- 
portunity to  see  who  the  assailant  was.  "I  know 
well's  I  want  to  who  done  it,"  she  replied,  "so 
does  Matt,  but  he  won't  say  so  till  he  knows  tor 
sure.  Ned  Southard's  mean  as  pizen,  pickin'  on 
smaller  boys.  The'll  be  another  ruction  sure  next 
time  they  meet."  The  boy  came  downstairs  with 
dry  clothes  on,  while  his  aunt  was  still  busy 
around  the  stove,  "fixin'  a  warm  bite,"  as  she 
termed  it,  and  he  looked  but  little  the  worse  for 
his  experience.  Aunt  Mary  had  formed  a  great 
liking  for  Mr.  Woodhull,  whose  pleasant  manners 
appealed  to  her,  besides  she  had  a  sort  of  maternal 
feeling  toward  the  man.  His  marked  improve- 
ment in  health  as  a  result  of  the  out-of-door  life 
he  was  leading  in  company  with  Matt  was  doing 
him  good.  But  one  thing  she  could  not  under- 
stand: why  a  man  of  refinement  and  education 
should  take  such  a  fancy  to  her  clumsy,  unlettered 
boy.  Aunt  Mary  had  never  gone  "fishin'  "  nor 
had  she  been  initiated  into  its  soulful  mysteries.  The 
answer  to  her  would  serve  for  many,  many  thou- 

80 


BOBBING   FOR   EELS 

sands  of  others  who  do  not  understand  the  strange 
friendships  which  spring  up  and  grow  between 
what  seems  Hke  strong  opposites  in  the  many  walks 
of  Hfe.  "What'll  you  ever  do  with  all  them 
suckers?"  she  asked  as  Matt  and  his  companion 
regaled  themselves  with  the  luncheon.  "The's 
more'n  half  a  bushel."  "The's  never  been  a  time 
when  any  was  wasted,"  said  Matt.  "Somebody 
alius  wants  'em  at  some  price.  I  ain't  worryin' 
none  'bout  that.  What  beats  me  is  who  soused 
me  in  the  creek."  "As  if  you  didn't  know  well's 
you  need  to,"  said  the  aunt.  "The's  only  one 
who  would  do  it,  and  he's  forever  picking  on  you 
for  no  reason  as  I  know  of."  "The's  a  lot  o' 
difference  'tween  thinkin'  an'  knowin',"  returned 
Matt.  "I  know  who  kicked  the  eggs,  'cause  I 
seen  him.  I  don't  know  who  soused  me,  'cause  I 
on'y  felt  him,  but,"  he  continued,  "the's  ways  o' 
finding  out  things  'thout  makin'  any  noise.  Let's 
go  bobbin'  for  eels  to-morrow  night,"  he  said,  as 
his  friend  was  preparing  to  leave.  "I'm  goin'  to 
dress  the  garden  over  an'  get  plenty  of  worms. 
You  don't  have  to  wash  or  moss  'em  to  make 
bobs."  "Good  land!"  broke  in  Aunt  Mary,  "I 
should  think  you'd  got  bobbin'  plenty  for  once, 
while  maybe  Mr.  Woodhull  had  best  not  be  out 
nights  nor  around  the  water  so  much,  but,"  she 
added  in  a  lighter  vein,  "somethin'  seems  to  be 
agreein'  with  you." 

Mr.  Woodhull  agreed  to  be  over  the  following 
afternoon  prepared  for  the  trip,  and  expressed  a 
6  8i 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

great  desire  to  see  eels  taken  in  the  manner  de- 
scribed by  the  boy. 

Matt  was  around  early  the  following  morning, 
had  the  chores  done,  and  was  washing  his  fish 
when  his  aunt  came  down.  She  paused  a  moment, 
looking  over  his  catch,  and  remarked:  "They  run 
big,  don't  they?  "They're  mos'  all  spawnin' 
ones,"  was  his  answer.  "The's  plenty  for  us,  I 
guess,"  he  said,  as  he  threw  two  large  ones  to  one 
side.  At  breakfast  he  told  his  aunt  he  intended 
building  a  frog  pen  down  by  the  well-drain  some 
day.  "What  do  you  want  o'  frogs?"  broke  in  the 
aunt,  as  was  her  custom,  dropping  her  knife  and 
fork  and  looking  at  him  curiously.  "Well,"  said 
Matt,  "the's  no  more  plantin'  'mong  the  farmers; 
it's  all  done,  an'  it's  too  early  for  berrin';  'sides, 
Mr.  Woodhull  says  he'll  sell  all  the  big  frogs  I 
can  catch  at  a  good  price.  The's  lots  of  'em  along 
the  brooks  an'  places  I  know."  "Well,"  said  the 
aunt,  "when  folks  want  frogs  to  eat  they  can 
have  'em  for  all  o'  me." 

Matt  divided  his  catch  of  fish,  taking  one-half 
in  a  large  basket  and  put  a  wet  towel  over  them  to 
keep  them  fresh,  then  started  out.  In  less  than 
half  an  hour  his  aunt  was  surprised  to  see  him  come 
in  the  yard  swinging  his  empty  basket.  "I  had 
good  luck  right  off,"  he  said.  "I  met  Mr.  Baker 
down  the  road.  He's  got  some  men  makin'  fence 
an'  cleaning  up;  said  the  fish'd  come  handy,  but 
he  held  me  down  in  price — gave  me  half  a  dollar, 
that's  all,"  and  he  handed  the  money  to  his  aunt, 


BOBBING  FOR  EELS 

who  took  it  without  comment.  The  balance  of 
the  fish  was  then  put  in  the  basket  and  he  again 
started  out.  While  in  one  of  the  houses  that  he 
stopped  at,  a  boy  of  about  his  own  age  said, 
"Got  ducked  las'  night,  didn't  ye.  Matt?"  "Who 
said  so.^"  asked  the  latter  quietly.  "Ned  Southard 
tol'  me,  an'  he  tol'  others,  too;  said  he  heard  it 
first  thing  this  mornin'  how  you  slipped  off'n  the 
bank  clean  over  your  head."  Here  was  evidence 
of  substantiating  quality.  Matt  had  told  no  one 
but  his  aunt,  and  from  Mr.  Woodhull  no  word 
could  have  reached  that  point  so  early  in  the  day; 
besides,  he  would  not  have  given  out  that  Matt 
had  slipped  in  through  accident. 

He  had  sold  to  the  wheelwright  the  last  of  his 
fish  and  was  seated  on  a  bench  talking  when  who 
should  drive  up  but  Southard  himself  with  some 
repair  work  to  be  done  for  his  father.  Giving  a 
signal  to  his  friend  to  keep  mum.  Matt  dodged 
behind  a  stairway  when  Southard  entered  the  shop 
and  seated  himself  where  Matt  had  sat  a  moment 
before.  "Did  you  hear  how  Matt  Buckley  got 
ducked  las'  night  ?"  he  asked  the  first  thing.  "No," 
said  the  wheelwright,  and  he  paused  in  his  work 
to  get  the  story.  "Well,  'twas  like  this:  Him  an' 
that  sick  dude  what's  fishin'  with  him  all  the  time 
went  out  spearin'  suckers,  an'  Matt,  gettin'  too 
close  up,  slipped  an'  went  in  clean  over  his  head. 
Didn't  hurt  him  none,  though,  I  guess.  Washed 
some  of  the  freckles  off,  meb'e."  Matt  could 
stand  no  more.     "You're  tellin'  a  plum  lie,"  he 

83 


FISHING  WITH  A  BOY 

exclaimed,  as  he  walked  from  behind  the  stair- 
way boldly,  well  knowing  his  friend,  the  wheel- 
wright, would  protect  him.  "You  grabbed  me  by 
the  neck  an'  x^ne  leg  an'  heaved  me  in,  not  carin' 
if  I  drowned  or  not;  'nen  you  scooted  like  a  skunk." 
Southard  jumped  to  his  feet  on  hearing  his  voice, 
and  the  two  stood  glaring  at  each  other  savagely 
for  a  moment,  when  the  older  of  the  two  seated 
himself  on  the  light  saw-bench  with  his  back  to 
Matt  and  a  look  of  contempt  on  his  face.  Matt 
stood  leaning  against  the  workbench  at  the  side 
of  the  shop,  when  his  quick  eye  took  in  the  fact 
that  the  wheelwright  had  thrown  some  shavings 
and  blocks  of  wood  into  the  old  stove  to  warm 
the  glue  in  the  pot  on  the  top.  Like  a  flash  he 
grabbed  a  leg  of  the  light  bench  on  which  Southard 
was  seated  and  with  a  savage  yank  dropped  him 
heavily  to  the  floor.  At  the  same  instant  he 
grabbed  with  the  other  hand  the  brush  which 
was  in  the  warm  glue  and  buried  it  deeply  in  the 
curly  hair  of  his  enemy,  leaving  a  flood  of  the 
sticky  substance  where  it  would  do  the  most 
good — or  damage — and  before  the  exasperated 
Southard  could  regain  his  feet  Matt  was  through 
the  door  with  his  basket,  piping  back  to  the  wheel- 
wright, "Charge  the  glue  to  his  father." 

\Vhen  he  entered  the  gate  at  his  home  his  aunt 
knew  by  a  glance  at  his  flushed  appearance  that 
something  was  on  foot,  but  she  said  nothing, 
knowing  that  the  story  would  come  out  in  good 
time,  whatever  its  nature.    He  gave  her  the  bal- 

84 


BOBBING  FOR  EELS 

ance  of  his  money,  amounting,  all  told,  to  but 
little  more  than  one  dollar.  Small  as  the  sum 
was,  it  helped  out  by  just  that  much  in  providing 
table  necessities.  He  took  down  his. hoe  and  rake 
and  went  to  the  garden,  where  he  worked  until 
noon,  "dressin'  the  garden,"  as  he  called  it,  mean- 
while gathering  a  can  of  worms  for  making  the 
bobs. 

During  the  dinner  Matt  said  in  his  quiet,  droll 
way:  "Seems  'ough  Ned  Southard's  gittin'  mighty 
stuck  up  lately.  Seen  him  in  the  wheelwright  shop 
this  mornin'  an' — "  "I  should  think  he  would 
feel  proud  of  last  night's  work,"  broke  in  the 
aunt.  "I  know  he  done  it,  most  as  if  I'd  seen 
him."  "I  know  it,  too,  now,"  Matt  rejoined. 
Then  he  related  how  he  heard  Southard  telling 
the  wheelwright  how  he  had  slipped  from  the 
bank  and  the  subsequent  wetting.  "I'd  a-faced 
him  right  there  with  his  'bomnible  lie,"  said  Aunt 
Mary,  with  an  unusual  degree  of  warmth.  "I 
did,"  said  Matt.  "  'Nen  I  upset  his  bench  an' 
sloshed  his  hair  full  o'  hot  glue.  Gosh!  but  I'd 
hke  to  see  him  com'in'  it  out."  Again  Aunt  Mary 
laid  her  knife  and  fork  down  and  sat  with  one 
elbow  resting  on  the  table,  looking  at  him  in  mute 
astonishment.  "He'll  never  get  it  out  'till  the 
crack  o'  doom,"  she  said,  when  she  could  find 
words.  "The  crack  o'  doom  won't  help  him 
none,"  said  Matt,  as  he  shoved  back  from  the 
table.  "He'll  have  to  have  his  head  shaved,"  and 
the  boy  chuckled  as  the  picture  returned  to  him. 

85 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

Mr.  Woodhull  was  around,  as  agreed,  at  three 
o'clock,  anxious  as  a  schoolboy  to  be  initiated 
in  the  secrets  of  eel  bobbing.  Matt  had  two 
large  sewing  needles  and  a  supply  of  linen  thread 
ready  and  was  awaiting  his  friend's  coming. 
Threading  the  needle  with  a  six-foot  length,  he 
doubled  it  and  tied  a  knot  in  the  end.  He  next 
proceeded  to  string  the  worms  on,  using  the  eye 
end  of  the  needle,  as  it  would  follow  the  channel 
through  the  worm  and  not  pierce  through  so 
readily  as  the  point,  then  passing  the  worm  on 
down  to  the  knot  in  the  end  of  the  thread.  Each 
worm  was  treated  in  the  same  manner  and  just 
touched  the  end  of  the  preceding  one.  He  con- 
tinued until  the  thread  was  full,  then,  knotting 
another  thread  to  the  first,  the  process  was  con- 
tinued until  a  string  of  fully  twelve  feet  was  made. 
Mr.  Woodhull  was  a  most  interested  spectator 
until  he  caught  the  idea,  then  he  set  about  mak- 
ing a  second  string,  and  while  not  so  handy  at  the 
job  as  Matt,  he  was  soon  working  it  well. 

"Did  you  take  any  cold  from  your  wetting  last 
night,"  ne  asked  as,  with  their  heads  close  to- 
gether, they  threaded  the  worms.  "Have  you 
any  idea  as  to  who  it  was  who  would  play  so  dan- 
gerous a  trick?"  "No,  don't  seem  to  have  got 
any  cold,  but  I  sure  felt  chilly  like  goin'  home; 
'sides,  'twasn't  any  trick  at  all;  'twas  clear  spite." 
The  boy  related  the  egg  episode,  which  amused 
his  companion  greatly,  and  then  added:  "  'Sides, 
I   told  him   this  mornin'  I  knowed  who  done  it, 

86 


BOBBING  FOR  EELS 

an'  I  hot-glued  his  hair  for  him."  On  hearing  the 
adventure  of  the  morning,  Mr.  WoodhuU  lay 
over  on  the  grass  convulsed  with  laughter.  "I 
am  much  afraid,  though,"  he  said,  "he  will  do 
you  some  great  injury."  "Not  if  I  see  him  first 
he  won't.  He's  bigger'n  me  an'  stronger,  but  he 
can't  catch  me  in  a  footrace,"  replied  Matt, 
smiling. 

Before  it  was  time  to  start  for  the  lower  mill 
basin,  where  Matt  said  their  chances  were  best 
for  getting  good  eels,  their  friend  of  their  former 
trips  stopped  at  the  gate.  He  had  been  away  on 
a  business  trip  and  had  just  gotten  back.  He, 
Hke  Mr.  Woodhull,  was  much  interested  in  the 
construction  of  a  bob,  which,  after  being  strung, 
was  looped  back  and  forth  until  it  was  not  more 
than  four  inches  in  length  and  making  a  bunch  of 
considerable  thickness.  This  was  wound  with 
thread  quite  loosely  so  as  to  not  cut  the  worms 
too  much.  Matt  remarking:  "The  more  thread 
you  get  on  the  better  you  get  the  eels."  "How 
do  you  fasten  the  hooks  in  this  mess  of  worms?" 
Mr.  Adams  asked,  as  the  bobs  were  pronounced 
done.  "We  don't  use  no  hooks,"  replied  the  boy. 
"Eels  has  got  a  row  of  fine  teeth  along  their 
mouth  edge,  an'  when  they  take  holt  an'  pull  we 
just  yank  'em  out  on  the  ground."  Both  men 
seemed  incredulous,  but  as  Matt  had  made  good 
with  so  many  things  he  had  told  them  of  in  rela- 
tion to  the  ways  and  kinds  of  fish  in  the  neighbor- 
hood, they  did  not  ooenly  dispute  his  assertions 

87 


FISHING  WITH  A  BOY 

about  eels  getting  the  thread  fast  in  their  teeth. 
Mr.  Adams  was  not  prepared  to  go  with  them  that 
evening,  but  had  come  over  to  have  a  talk  about 
a  trip  extending  over  a  week  or  more  down  the 
river  later  in  the  season.  Aunt  Mary  was  called 
in  consultation  and  the  plan  talked  over.  Mr. 
Adams  would  furnish  a  shelter  tent  and  pro- 
vision, then  they  would  take  a  boat  from  below 
the  lower  dam  on  the  river  and  go  down  to  salt 
water,  getting  such  fish  as  were  to  be  had  on  the 
route.  Matt  of  course  was  all  enthusiasm,  but 
Aunt  Mary,  with  her  usual  diplomacy,  reserved 
her  decision. 


CHAPTER  VII 
Bobbing  for  Eels 

"I  AM  glad  you  do  not  think  eels  beneath  your 
endeavor,"  said  Mr.  Adams,  as  they  sat  down  on 
the  grass.  "I  would  rather  have  them  to  eat 
than  any  other  fish  that  swims." 

"So'd  me  an'  Aunt  Mary,"  broke  in  Matt; 
"  'sides,  when  I  get  many  I  can  alius  sell  'em 
better'n  any  other  kind." 

"I  attended  a  lecture  once,"  said  Mr.  Adams, 
"and  during  its  course  I  heard  some  of  the  most 
astonishing  things  in  relation  to  the  eel.  The  man 
was  lecturing  on  the  value  of  fish  as  a  food,  and 
he  particularly  dwelt  on  the  eel.  Their  habits 
have  in  the  past  been  but  little  understood  and 
their  value  to  man  not  fully  appreciated. 

"It  has  been  determined  for  only  a  compara- 
tively short  period  of  time,  and  then  only  after 
the  deepest  research,  just  how  eels  breed.  In- 
vestigation proves  that  they  spawn  only  in  the 
ocean.  While  it  is  true  that  eels  planted  in  ponds 
or  lakes  where  it  is  impossible  for  them  to  get 
out  will  thrive  and  grow  large,  still  there  is  never 
any  increase  in  numbers." 

Matt  lay,  giving  breathless  attention  to  this 
revelation  of  things  he  had  never  even  dreamed 
of,  and  Mr.  Adams  was  unconsciously  planting 

89 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

seed  in  virgin  soil  which  was  in  after  years  to 
give  full  fruition  in  the  man  Matt.  Many  of  the 
words  used  by  Mr.  Adams  were  but  vaguely 
understood  by  the  boy,  still  all  were  compre- 
hended in  a  general  way,  and  he  was  being  schooled 
much  more  rapidly  than  even  he  was  aware  of  at 
the  time. 

"While  eels  are  regarded  as  scavengers,  and  in 
a  sense  the  claim  is  true,"  continued  Mr.  Adams, 
"yet  they  are  fully  alive  to  the  tid-bits  of  the 
waters,  as  their  fondness  for  the  roe  of  other  fish 
bears  witness,  that  of  the  shad  being  preferred  to 
all  others.  In  their  wanderings  up  and  down 
their  favorite  streams  they  at  times  do  wonderful 
things.  They  have  been  known  to  completely 
clog  city  water  pipes,  and  will  even  cross  wet 
meadows  at  night  to  get  to  other  streams,  instinct, 
of  which  we  as  yet  know  but  little,  telling  them 
the  direction  in  which  the  desired  stream  lays. 

"That  they  spawn  only  in  the  ocean  is  assured 
by  the  fact  that  in  all  of  the  streams  leading  in- 
land during  the  early  summer  countless  millions 
of  the  tiny  fish  may  be  seen  working  their  way 
to  the  fresh  waters;  this  is  particularly  true  at 
the  foot  of  the  dams  which  cross  the  streams.* 

*Onc  Fourth  of  July  morning  the  writer  was  taken  by  a  friend 
to  witness  this  wonderful  sight,  to  the  very  stream  being  written 
of  in  these  sketches.  It  was  the  lowest  dam  at  the  head  of  the 
Manasquan  River,  where  a  pool  or  basin  is  naturally  formed  at 
such  places  by  the  action  of  the  waters.  It  was  at  least  fifty  feet 
wide  and  about  one  hundred  feet  in  length  and  at  least  ten  feet 
in  depth.  This  body  of  water  was  a  complete  mass  of  eel  life 
numbering  untold  millions. 

90 


BOBBING  FOR  EELS 

"When  the  wind  is  not  blowing  they  may  be 
seen  working  their  diminutive  bodies,  no  thicker 
than  a  darning  needle  and  from  three  to  four 
inches  in  length,  over  rocks  and  the  gates  of  the 
dam,  anywhere  where  there  is  moisture — all  in 
the  same  effort  to  get  to  the  headwaters.  What 
salmon  and  other  fish  do  with  wild  leaps  these 
midgets  accomplish  after  the  most  tedious  and 
determined  effort." 

Matt  could  scarcely  keep  quiet.  "Gee!"  he 
said,  "I've  seen  'em  more'n  once  clim'in'  the  dam, 
but  I  s'posed  they  had  been  hatched  in  the  mill- 
gate  hole.  They  was  no  longer'n  my  finger  and 
the  littlest  mites!"  "How  many  out  of  each 
thousand  finally  reach  their  destination  is  mere 
guess  work,"  continued  Mr.  Adams,  "but  it  is 
certain  that  immense  numbers  do,  as  thousands 
of  tons  of  the  mature  fish  are  caught  and  marketed 
annually.  They  are  a  very  important  article  of 
food,  and  the  market  is  never  over-supplied,  and 
they  always  sell  at  a  good  price.  All  eels  are  of 
much  the  same  shape,  the  principal  difference 
being  in  the  shape  of  their  heads,  one  species 
being  much  broader  than  the  other.  In  salt 
water  the  favorite  is  the  silver  eel.  This  kind 
apparently  seldom  goes  beyond  tidewater.  It  is 
dark  green  on  the  back  and  bright  silvery-white 
on  the  belly,  and  in  tidal  streams  is  extremely 
abundant.  In  commercial  fishery  they  are  taken 
in  eel  pots  in  vast  numbers." 

"What's    eel    pots?"    asked    Matt    with    great 

91 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

earnestness.  "Seems  like  goin'  to  school  on  fish 
to  hear  you  talk  an'  the  way  you  know." 

Mr.  Adams  described  the  way  eel  pots  were 
constructed  and  the  manner  of  their  setting;  also 
how  he  had  seen  them  in  use  in  the  different  parts 
of  the  country,  but  many  of  the  things  he  was 
telling  them  he  had  learned  himself  from  a  man 
he  had  heard  lecture  on  fish  who  was  in  the  em- 
ploy of  the  government  to  instruct  people  on  the 
importance  of  fish  as  food.  "Seems  funny,"  said 
the  lad,  "you  never  seen  bobs  before.  Everybody 
'round  here  uses  'em."  "While  1  have  heard  of 
them  in  a  way,  still  I  never  before  saw  one  nor 
understood  just  how  they  were  made,"  Mr. 
Adams  answered.  "As  eels  will  eat  almost  any 
kind  of  substance  of  an  animal  nature,  I  wonder 
if  something  else  would  answer  as  well  as  worms?" 
asked  Mr.  Adams.  "I  do'  know,"  said  the  boy. 
"Seems  'ough  worms  is  best."  "On  our  camping 
trip  we  may  find  out  many  things  by  taking  our 
time  which  we  would  be  most  sure  to  overlook 
on  a  short  trip,"  Mr.  Woodhull  said,  as  he  was 
looking  forward  to  the  trip  with  great  anticipa- 
tion. Matt  said,  "I  wonder  if  Aunt  Mary'll  let 
me  go: 

"We'd  best  take  the  stoutest  poles  I've  got," 
remarked  Matt,  as  he  came  from  the  shed  with 
the  desired  articles.  "Don't  want  'em  to  bend 
too  much;  you  have  to  chuck  'em  out  quick." 
He  then  tied  the  bobs  to  the  ends  of  the  poles 
with  stout  strings,  leaving  them  to  swing  free  a 

92 


BOBBING   FOR   EELS 

few  inches.  "I'll  get  some  matches  to  start  a 
fire  'long  the  bank;  it  draws  eels  some,  'sides 
helpin'  you  to  ketch  'em  as  they  move  quick  on 
grass  when  it's  wet."  He  next  produced  a  basket 
into  which  he  laid  a  piece  of  muslin  which  appar- 
ently had  done  service  of  the  kind  before. 
"Wouldn't  it  be  better  to  take  the  bag  along?"  he 
was  asked.  "The  basket  has  low  sides  and  eels 
can  get  out  quickly."  "Not  when  I  get  through 
with  'em,"  said  Matt. 

After  telling  the  aunt,  they  started  off  and 
strolled  across  the  field  to  the  white  bridge,  then 
along  the  border  of  the  creek  which  led  up  to  the 
mill.  "Here  goes  a  wood-duck,"  said  the  boy, 
as  the  whistle  of  wings  sounded  overhead,  and, 
shading  his  eyes  with  his  hand,  he  bent  low  and 
watched  the  bird's  flight  into  the  swamp.  "She's 
got  a  nest  there  in  that  ol'  tree  she's  lit  in;  funny 
why  them  birds  alius  builds  nests  in  trees.  I'll 
bet  she's  got  young  ones — it's  time  for  'em  now. 
I'd  like  to  go  over  an'  see  how  many.  They  must 
be  near  ready  to  fly  by  now.  Hawks  hunt  'em 
hard  when  ducks  is  little.  Don't  seem's  'ough  any 
could  get  by,  but  they  do."  So  he  rambled  on  in 
his  own  way,  this  untutored  country  boy.  Little 
of  anything  in  nature  escaped  his  vigilant  eye, 
and  apparently  nothing  once  seen  was  ever  for- 
gotten. He  could  tell  the  number  of  eggs  each 
variety  of  bird  would  lay,  as  well  as  their  color; 
also  the  kind  of  food  the  mother  bird  would  bring 
to  her  nestlings  at  the  diff'erent  periods  of  their 

93 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

growth.  In  fact,  he  was  acquiring  an  ele- 
mentary knowledge  from  the  Book  of  Nature 
which  contains  no  typographical  errors  nor  am- 
biguous text. 

"Seems  we  started  plenty  early,"  he  said,  as 
they  stopped  under  a  large  tree  standing  by  the 
side  of  the  creek.  "Eels  don't  move  'bout  much 
till  dark  an'  after.  Look!  Right  down  at  the 
foot  of  the  ol'  white  birch  the's  a  mus'rat  out." 
The  httle  animal  came  into  view  with  its  mouth 
filled  with  young  roots,  which  it  proceeded  to 
wash  with  a  degree  of  energy  in  the  clear  water, 
swinging  its  head  from  side  to  side  until,  appar- 
ently satisfied  with  its  efforts,  it  lowered  itself 
into  the  water  and  swam  noiselessly  across  the 
creek  and  disappeared  in  its  burrow  in  the  bank, 
the  tiny  waves  giving  back  a  faint  echo  from  the 
opening. 

"I  of'en  come  out  in  the  woods  Sundays  an' 
just  set  still  for  hours,  an'  the's  many  funny 
things  I  see,"  continued  Matt.  "Seems  'ough 
birds  an'  other  things  has  their  troubles  as  well 
as  folks,  on'y  different  kinds.  I've  seen  minks 
chase  rabbits  all  over  the  swamp;  they'll  track 
'em  like  a  houn'  dog.  Seems  'ough  everything's 
the  mortal  enemy  of  a  rabbit."  As  they  passed 
along  they  picked  up  pieces  ot  bark  and  sticks, 
anything  which  was  dry  was  put  in  the  basket 
to  make  their  fire  with.  Matt  gathered  up  some 
sand  and  wrapped  it  in  his  piece  of  muslin.  "A 
little  of  that  on  the  rag  an*  you  get  a  grip  on  Mr. 

94 


BOBBING  FOR  EELS 

Eel  'at  you  can't  no  other  way.    Gosh,  but  they're 
slippery ! 

"We'll  go  in  on  this  side  of  the  mill-hole  this 
time,  near  the  wheel:  the  water  ain't  so  deep; 
'sides,  they  most  lay  where  the  water  dribbles 
out  from  behind  the  water-wheel — don't  know 
why,  but  they  do.  It's  comin'  near  dark  now,  an' 
we'll  light  the  fire  clear  down  by  the  water  so's 
they'll  see  it.  They'll  alius  come  to'ards  a  hght. 
Put  your  bob  in  an'  let  it  lay  on  the  bottom; 
you'll  feel  'em  yank  if  any's  here;  'sides,  you  can 
fair  hear  'em  tunk  their  heads  on  the  pole  when 
they  grab  for  the  worms.  You  won't  need  no 
tellin'  when  you  get  a  bite."  Both  secured  seats 
and  presently  Mr.  Woodhull  realized  that  an 
eel  was  at  his  bob;  there  was  a  most  decided  yank 
and  a  peculiar  sensation  of  jarring  on  the  pole. 
He  communicated  the  fact  to  his  boy  companion. 
"Well,  yank,"  he  said.  "Soon  as  you  feel  'em 
you  needn't  wait;  they'll  eat  your  worms  all  up 
if  you  don't."  At  the  next  pull  Mr.  Woodhull 
raised  his  pole  from  the  water,  but  there  was  no 
eel.  "You  was  plum  slow,"  said  the  boy,  "an' 
when  they  come  out  'en  the  water  swing  the  pole 
clean  over  the  bank  quick  or  they'll  drop  off. 
Now  watch  me."  The  lad  brought  the  pole  out 
so  fast  it  could  be  heard  cutting  through  the  water 
and  was  bent  nearly  double.  The  motion  was 
carried  over  the  bank,  when  an  eel  was  heard  to 
drop  well  back  of  him.  "I  got  a  good  one  then," 
he  said,  and  by  the  light  of  the  fire  Mr.  Woodhull 

95 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

saw  him  throw  a  small  quantity  of  sand  on  the 
rag  and  in  a  moment  he  came  back  with  a  large 
eel  squirming  energetically  but  unable  to  get 
loose.  "You  sure  tucker  'em  with  a  little  sand 
and  a  rag,"  he  said.  Then  placing  the  eel  firmly 
on  the  ground  he  gave  it  a  quick  cut  with  his 
knife  just  back  of  the  head,  when  it  instantly  be- 
came inert.  \Yhile  he  was  thus  engaged  Mr. 
Woodhull  rose  to  his  feet.  There  were  sounds  of 
struggling  at  the  surface  of  the  water,  then  an 
enormous  eel  dropped  at  their  very  feet.  "Gee- 
whilikens!  What  a  whopper!"  gasped  Matt, 
"You've  got  the  daddy  of  'em  all,"  and  he  grasped 
it  with  his  sanded  rag.  The  eel  as  promptly 
wrapped  itself  around  his  arm  and  continued  to 
turn  in  the  boy's  grasp  while  he  was  endeavoring 
to  get  his  knife  point  in  at  the  desired  spot.  "It's 
stronger'n  a  bull,"  he  said.  "Gee,  but  they  twist 
some!"  Finally  the  coup  was  given  and  he  held 
up  a  splendid  specimen  fully  three  feet  in  length. 
"He  almost  took  the  pole  out  of  my  hands,"  said 
Mr.  Woodhull.  "This  is  sport!  But  what  gets 
me  is  why  they  hold  on  so  long."  "They  don't; 
they  get  the  thread  in  their  fine  teeth  an'  can't 
let  go,"  said  Matt,  "if  you  jerk  'em  quick.  Seems 
'ough  Mr.  Adams  knows  a  pile  'bout  fish  an' 
fishin'  an'  a  whole  lot  about  eels  I  didn't  know. 
Seems  queer  none  breed  'cept  in  salt  water." 
"Mr.  Adams  has  traveled  and  read  a  great  deal 
and,  being  fond  of  the  sport,  has  had  a  chance  to 

96 


The  end  of  a  perfect  day 


BOBBING  FOR  EELS 

learn  much,"  said  Mr.  Woodhull  as  he  threw  out 
another  eel. 

By  this  time  they  decided  to  quit.  Their  bobs 
were  really  used  up,  little  remaining  but  the 
bare  threads,  and  they  had  quite  a  basket  of  eels. 

"I'll  find  a  little  more  wood  and  make  a  bright 
fire  an'  skin  'em;  it's  a  good  place  here,"  said 
Matt.  His  companion  looked  askance  at  skinning 
a  basketful  of  eels.  To  him  it  seemed  an  almost 
interminable  job,  but  he  said  nothing. 

Matt  secured  a  piece  of  board,  and  starting  at 
the  place  where  he  had  cut  the  back  through  he 
ran  the  sharp  point  of  the  knife  down  the  back 
several  inches,  then  severed  the  head,  taking  care 
to  not  cut  through  the  skin  at  the  throat.  Then, 
holding  the  body  of  the  eel  firmly  with  his  knife 
he  gave  a  sharp  pull,  loosening  the  skin  all  around 
the  end.  Then  taking  the  end  in  his  right  hand, 
he,  with  his  left,  took  the  entire  skin  off  with  one 
pull,  the  entire  operation  taking  but  a  brief  space 
of  time.  Mr.  Woodhull  watched  with  keen  in- 
terest as  eel  after  eel  was  cleaned.  When  all  was 
done  the  lad  took  all  the  larger  skins  and,  after 
pulling  them  out  straight,  laid  them  on  the 
cleaned  fish,  saying  as  he  did  so:  "When  they're 
dry  they're  the  toughest  thing  in  creation,  an' 
somebody's  alius  wantin'  'em.  I  can  get  two 
cents  for  'em,  sometimes  three,  when  they  are 
long."  They  parted  at  the  bridge,  Mr.  Woodhull 
accepting  a  small  portion  of  the  eels,  as  he  said 
V  97 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

he  was  very  fond  of  them  when  fried.  Matt  care- 
fully avoided  the  creek  bank  as  well  as  all  dark 
places,  for  he  knew  his  enemy  would  lay  for  him 
somewhere  sometime,  and  he  was  taking  no 
chances.  He  knew  that  he  had  no  show  if  Southard 
once  got  him  in  his  grip,  being  so  much  larger 
and  stronger,  but  he  was  more  than  a  match  for 
him  in  a  race. 

The  following  morning  Matt  was  at  the  store 
after  disposing  of  his  eels.  Mr.  Madge,  the  store- 
keeper, asked  him  if  he  had  seen  Southard  lately. 
"Not  since  I  met  him  in  the  wheelwright  shop," 
returned  Matt  with  a  grin.  Mr.  Madge  laughed 
heartily  and  said:  "He's  out  back  of  the  store 
now  getting  some  barrels,  and  will  be  in  soon. 
You  hide  in  the  closet  there.  You  ought  to  see 
his  head."  Matt  did  as  directed,  and  had  the 
fun  a  few  minutes  later  of  getting  a  look  at  the 
shaven  head  of  his  foe,  which,  as  Mr.  Madge  had 
said,  "was  as  bare  as  a  pumpkin."  As  Southard 
went  out  Matt  came  from  his  hiding  place,  slap- 
ping his  leg,  as  was  his  custom  when  highly 
amused.  "Looks  like  somethin'  happened  to  him," 
he  said.  "Gosh!  s'pose  he'd  a  knowed  I  was  there 
grinnin'  at  him." 

The  next  ten  days  were  busy  ones  for  Matt. 
Mr.  Woodhull  had  gone  on  a  visit  to  his  wife  and 
child,  while  Mr.  Adams  was  away  on  a  business 
trip,  and  the  lad  had  busied  himself  with  his  frog 
enterprise.  Mr.  Woodhull  had  given  him  the 
address  of  the  house  where  he  might  dispose  of 

98 


BOBBING  FOR  EELS 

such  as  he  might  get,  and  had  written  for  him 
that  he  would  send  some  on  within  a  short  time. 
Left  to  his  own  resources  entirely,  he  had  con- 
structed a  net  from  the  balance  of  his  fly  net,  as 
he  knew  he  would  need  something  of  the  kind  to 
make  the  capture  easy.  He  had  lashed  it  to  a 
birch  with  forked  branches  much  the  same  as  the 
landing  net,  but  much  lighter  and  about  ten  feet 
long.  A  pen  to  keep  them  alive  in  at  the  well 
drain  was  constructed,  and  all  was  about  ready 
for  his  first  endeavor.  Aunt  Mary  was  skeptical 
and  very  much  inclined  to  view  the  whole  pro- 
ceedings with  distrust.  That  frogs  would  bring 
real  money  was  to  her  a  doubtful  statement,  being 
inclined,  like  so  many  others,  to  view  Hkes  and 
dislikes  through  her  own  glasses.  "You're  wastin' 
of  your  time,"  she  said,  as  Matt  was  preparing 
to  start  on  his  first  trip.  "You  may  get  frogs,  but 
you  ain't  seen,  nor  likely  to,  any  money  for  'em." 
Matt  said  nothing,  but  went  on  with  net  in  hand 
and  the  much-used  coarse  bag  under  his  arm. 
One  thing  he  did  not  say  a  thing  about  was  the 
fact  that  he  had  secured  a  red  rag,  and  one  of  his 
fish  lines  was  in  his  pocket.  He  had  filed  the 
barb  from  the  hook,  and  had  in  mind  that  where 
one  plan  failed  the  other  might  succeed.  There 
were  acres  of  marshes  along  the  streams,  and  he 
was  soon  busy  plying  his  net.  With  the  long 
handle  he  could  reach  over  the  rushes  and  other 
impediments  and  by  working  the  net  to  the  side 
of  the  frog  would  not  arouse  its  suspicion  that  it 

99 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

was  in  danger  until  a  quick  flop-over,  then  with 
a  twist  of  the  frame  the  frog  was  hopelessly  en- 
meshed. The  slender  brown  frogs  he  did  not  take 
in,  as  they  were  not  the  kind  used;  only  the  large 
green-back  ones  were  wanted.  Many  places  where 
his  view  was  obstructed  and  he  had  reason  to 
believe  they  were  sitting  he  would  swing  the  red 
rag  and  hook  back  and  forth  and  many  large  ones 
were  taken  in  that  way.  As  the  barb  was  filed 
from  the  hook,  they  were  not  injured  in  the  least 
in  being  unhooked,  and,  as  Matt  said,  "They 
looked  funny  comin'  in  with  their  heads  in  their 
hands."  Matt  kept  the  frogging  trips  up  for  three 
days,  and  having  his  pen  pretty  well  filled  decided 
to  dress  and  ship  them.  Mr.  Woodhull  had  told 
him  just  how  they  should  be  prepared,  and  he 
was  busy  the  better  part  of  one  day  in  the  work, 
cutting  them  just  as  he  had  been  told  and  tying 
them  in  bunches.  He  got  a  quantity  of  clean 
moss  from  the  meadow  and  packed  it  around  them 
carefully,  then  a  wet  cloth  over  all.  A  neighbor, 
whom  he  found  out  was  going  to  the  town  three 
miles  distant,  kindly  sent  them  by  express,  and 
the  matter  was  concluded,  save  sending  a  letter 
which  Mr.  Madge  had  kindly  helped  him  with, 
telling  the  city  house  he  had  shipped  them.  "Now 
that  they're  gone,  how  much'll  I  get  in  money?" 
he  asked  his  aunt  at  the  supper  table.  "Le's 
guess."  Aunt  Mary  snorted:  "You'll  'bout  get 
the  trouble  you've  had,"  she  returned,  "an'  some- 
body'U  send  us  a  bill  for  express.      I  ain't  got  no 

lOO 


BOBBING  FOR  EELS 

faith  in  frogs  nor  much  in  anybody  what'll  eat 
'em."  "Well,  I'll  guess  five  dollars,"  he  said. 
"Might's  well  say  that  as  anything."  "Five  dol- 
lars for  a  little  starch  box  of  frogs!"  said  his  aunt. 
"Might's  well  say  ten  and  be  done  with  it.  The 
sooner  fool  notions  is  out  of  your  head  the  better 
for  us  both,  Matt  Buckley." 

Several  days  went  by.  Mr.  Woodhull  had  re- 
turned, and  they  had  again  gone  perch  fishing, 
but  nothing  had  been  heard  from  the  shipment  of 
frogs.  He  assured  Matt  it  was  all  right  and  that 
they  would  surely  bring  him  something.  The 
local  mail  was  left  each  day  at  the  store,  and  the 
day  following  the  conversation  with  Mr.  Wood- 
hull,  Matt  was  in  the  store,  when  Mr.  Madge, 
going  behind  the  counter,  said:  "Here's  a  letter 
for  you,  Matt.  Getting  a  little  like  a  business 
man,  ain't  you.^"  Matt  put  the  letter  in  his 
pocket,  not  caring  to  open  it  there,  as  he  had  told 
no  one  about  his  frog  enterprise;  so  if  nothing 
came  of  it  nobody  would  be  wiser  if  he  could  help 
it.  "Well,  the  letter's  come,"  he  said,  as  he  walked 
into  the  house,  "an'  I  ain't  opened  it  yet.  Le's 
guess,"  he  teased  his  aunt.  "Well,"  she  said,  "if 
I  guess  it  will  be  two  dollars."  "I'll  stick  to  my 
five,"  he  said  doggedly,  and  tore  open  the  en- 
velope. He  gazed  at  the  check  without  saying  a 
word  for  more  than  a  minute.  Then,  slapping 
his  leg  he  fairly  yelled  "They  brought  me  twelve 
dollars,  them  frogs!"  "  'Tain't  no  sech  thing," 
said  his  aunt.    "I  don't  beHeve  it."    Then,  pulling 

lOI 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

her  glasses  down  from  the  top  of  her  head,  she 
read  the  check  for  herself,  with  the  comment: 
"Matt  Buckley,  you  ain't  a  fool  all  the  time,  air 
ye?"  Here  was  more  money  than  the  boy  had 
ever  been  possessed  of  at  any  time  in  his  life,  and 
to  his  aunt  it  was  a  large  sum.  The  boy  was  re- 
clining on  one  elbow  on  the  porch  floor  buried  in 
thought.  He  was  busy  dreaming  the  long  dreams 
of  youth.  Gradually  they  grew  into  a  stimulating 
picture  of  the  long  career  that  stretched  ahead  of 
him.  The  gates  to  success  had  at  last  been  opened. 
Frogs  were  plentiful  all  over  the  marshes.  Four 
days'  work  had  brought  him  twelve  dollars,  as 
much  money  as  he  could  probably  make  the  entire 
season  picking  the  wild  berries  in  the  woods  and 
then  finding  sale  for  them.  With  the  glowing 
thought  of  pride  that  he  felt  in  his  triumph  there 
came  the  realization  of  what  it  must  mean  to  his 
aunt,  now  that  he  had  found  means  of  lessening 
the  problem  of  living.  "Matt,"  said  Aunt  Mary, 
as  she  came  out  with  a  happy  smile  and  took  a 
chair  near  him,  "we  didn't  do  so  bad  with  our 
frogs,  did  we?" 


lo: 


CHAPTER  VIII 
Fishing  for  Carp  and  Crappies 

"There's  no  mortal  sense  in  toUin'  boys  off"  to 
go  fishinV'  said  Aunt  Mary  one  morning  some 
weeks  after  the  frogging  experience.  "Besides,  it 
takes  the  time  away  from  gatherin'  frogs,  which  is 
good.  I  do'  know  what  on  earth  they  see  in 
eatin'  'em,  but  they  don't  seem  to  let  up  any  in 
the  price." 

Matt  had  made  several  shipments,  and  each 
time  the  returns  had  come  back  satisfactory,  and 
a  letter  following  one  shipment  had  assured  him 
that  all  he  could  secure  would  be  acceptable. 
Here  was  a  new  way  opening  up  to  earn  money, 
and  Aunt  Mary  was  provided  with  more  funds 
than  she  had  ever  had  at  one  time  during  her 
widowhood.  "Seems  'ough  frogs  ain't  so  meachin' 
mean  as  they  one  time  was,"  said  Matt,  a  sug- 
gestion of  a  smile  playing  around  his  mouth. 
"Nothin'  ain't  mean,  once  you  can  put  it  to  good 
use,"  snapped  back  his  aunt,  "an'  you  needn't 
touch  me  up  none  about  it.  Seems  you're  gittin' 
a  little  peart  like  with  your  tongue."  "I  wasn't 
touchin'  of  you  up,"  said  Matt;  "I  was  talkin'  on 
the  good  p'ints  of  frogs."  This  conversation  had 
followed  their  talk  in  relation  to  the  camping 
trip  proposed  by  Mr.  Adams,  on  which  Matt  was 

103 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

so  hopeful  of  becoming  a  member  of  the  party. 
Mr.  Woodhull  had  been  to  the  city  helping  his 
firm  out  with  some  emergency  work,  and  had  re- 
turned to  take  up  once  more  his  upbuilding  vaca- 
tion. No  time  had  as  yet  been  set  for  the  trip, 
only  preliminary  arrangements  had  been  gone 
over. 

"I  s'pose  it  can  be  fixed  some  way  so  you  can 
go,"  said  Aunt  Mary,  "but  it  takes  a  week  away 
from  your  work  an'  leaves  me  alone.  You  make 
more'n  you  ever  did  a  berryin'."  "Frogs  lasts  all 
summer  an*  berries  don't,"  said  the  boy;  "  'sides, 
Mr.  Adams  said  he  would  pay  me  to  look  up  a 
boat  an'  get  things  we'd  want.  He  asked  me 
how  much  I  was  makin'  a  week  froggin',  an'  if 
he  pays  me  I  won't  kick  none,  'cause  I  want  some 
traps  more'n  I've  got  for  mus'rats  this  winter  an' 
a  snappin'  turtle  hook  an'  spear."  "Snappin' 
turtles  don't  bother  us  none,"  said  his  aunt,  "an' 
I  don't  see  what  you  need  to  bother  'em  for." 
"The  folks  what  buys  my  frogs  asked  Mr.  Wood- 
hull  if  I  could  get  'em  some  in  the  wintertime; 
said  they'd  pay  me  for  'em."  "You'll  be  a  sellin' 
of  all  the  trash  in  the  brooks,  looks  like,"  she  said, 
"but  I  don't  see  how  you  can  get  'em  in  the  win- 
tertime." Matt  said  nothing,  but  went  out,  and, 
gathering  up  his  frog  trappings,  went  away 
whistling. 

Mr.  Adams  was  at  the  house  when  he  returned 
in  the  evening  and  wanted  him  to  go  with  him 
the    following   day   over   to   a   pond   some   miles 

104 


FISHING  FOR  CARP 

away.  There  were  some  carp  to  be  had  there,  he 
was  told,  and  he  wanted  to  give  them  a  trial. 
Matt  knew  nothing  of  these  fish,  and  was  not 
acquainted  with  the  pond  mentioned.  While  he 
knew  of  it  he  had  never  been  to  it,  so  he  could 
give  no  information  as  to  its  size  or  depth.  They 
were  to  drive  over  about  noon  and  Matt  was  to 
supply  worms.  Mr.  Adams  said  he  would  pro- 
vide the  other  bait  himself,  not  mentioning  the 
kind  necessary.  "I  don't  know  nothin'  about 
'em,"  said  the  boy.  "What  kind  of  hooks  an' 
poles  shall  I  take.?"  He  was  told  to  take  stout 
poles  and  to  bring  along  all  the  hooks  he  had,  as 
they  might  find  other  fish  than  carp  there.  "How 
big  are  they?"  asked  the  lad,  interested  in  any- 
thing like  fish,  and  particularly  those  he  knew 
nothing  of.  "Well,  there's  little  ones  and  big 
ones,"  said  Mr.  Adams,  in  a  trifle  teasing  tone. 
"I've  caught  them  as  heavy  as  twenty  pounds." 
"Not  in  ponds?"  asked  Matt,  looking  his  surprise. 
"Yes,  I've  seen  them  larger  than  that,  but  I 
never  have  taken  them  myself."  "Don't  seems 
'ough  they'd  get  that  big  in  on'y  mill  ponds," 
said  Matt.  "What  else  do  they  bite  on  'sides 
worms?"  "Well,"  replied  Mr.  Adams,  "I've 
caught  them  on  corn  and  Hma  beans  and — " 
"huckleberries  an'  punkins,  I  s'pose,"  broke  in 
Matt,  who  felt  that  Mr.  Adams  was  poking  fun 
at  him.  Mr.  Adams  laughed  heartily,  always 
taking  delight  in  raising  Matt's  incredulous  ire. 
Then   he   continued:     "They   are   really   a   queer 

IOC 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

fish  and  have  most  pecuHar  habits  in  their  way 
of  Hfe,  but,  like  everything  else,  it  meets  their 
ends,  and  so  they  thrive."  "Any  other  kinds  of 
fish  there?"  asked  the  boy  in  a  tone  of  voice 
which  denoted  his  incredulity  about  lima  beans 
and  corn  as  a  fish  bait.  "Yes,"  said  Mr.  Adams, 
"the  man  who  owned  the  place  several  years  ago 
had  crappies  put  in  with  the  carp."  "What's 
them.''"  he  was  asked  in  the  boy's  quick,  jerky 
way.  "A  much  smaller  fish  than  the  carp,  but 
excellent  eating  and  good  sport  in  the  taking," 
replied  Mr.  Adams.  "Meet  me  where  Mr.  Wood- 
hull  boards  about  eleven  o'clock  and  we'll  go." 
The  lad  went  for  frogs  early  in  the  morning, 
coming  home  in  good  time  to  reach  the  appointed 
place  at  eleven  o'clock.  He  was  talking  to  Mr. 
Woodhull  when  Mr.  Adams  drove  up  in  a  light 
market  wagon.  Their  equipment  was  soon  in  the 
wagon.  Matt  seated  himself  on  the  bottom, 
with  his  feet  swinging  from  the  rear,  while  their 
poles  extended  out  back.  "S'pose  we'll  get  some 
lima  bean  fish,"  he  said  as  they  started.  Mr. 
Adams  nudged  the  other  man  with  his  elbow 
and  made  no  reply.  Matt  noticed  the  action, 
and  more  than  ever  was  convinced  that  he  was 
being  joked  in  the  matter.  As  they  came  to  a 
crossroads  they  overtook  a  team  driven  by  his 
enemy,  Ned  Southard.  As  they  passed  close  to 
each  other  Matt  did  not  see  who  it  was  until  a 
trifle  past  the  wagon,  but  the  recognition  was 
mutual  and  Southard,  grasping  the  heavy  whip 

106 


FISHING  FOR  CARP 

at  his  side,  aimed  a  vicious  swing  at  the  despoiler 
of  his  curly  locks.  Matt  swung  quickly  to  one 
side  deftly  avoiding  the  blow,  and  with  fingers 
twirling  at  his  nose  shouted  tauntingly,  boy- 
fashion,  "Got  any  ol'  hair  to  sell?"  He  knew  he 
was  too  well  protected  to  fear  any  other  manner 
of  assault  and  enjoyed  the  scowling  looks  which 
followed  him  down  the  road.  The  two  men  were 
engaged  in  earnest  conversation,  so  the  boy  was 
left  to  his  own  reflection.  He  was  a  rough  country 
boy,  knowing  but  little  of  the  ways  of  Hfe  outside 
his  own  narrow  sphere,  being  sought  after  by  men 
experienced  in  world  affairs  and  of  highly  refined 
natures,  and  he  was  logician  enough  to  know  that 
he  was  imbibing  much  from  them  in  the  way  of 
upbuilding,  knowledge,  and  character,  x-^nd  to 
them  his  frank  and  kindly  nature,  coupled  with 
his  quaint  manner  of  speech,  ever  appealed. 
While  his  observation  and  knowledge  of  the  ways 
of  the  folks  of  the  woods  and  water  unconsciously 
transformed  him  into  a  juvenile  "Natty  Bumppo," 
who  would  much  rather  know  the  ways  of  mice 
than  of  men. 

When  they  arrived  at  their  destination  they 
found  a  large  pond  which  had  been  raised  for  the 
purpose  of  boating  and  cutting  ice  in  the  winter. 
The  first  owner,  who  had  passed  away  some  years 
since,  had  secured  several  varieties  of  fish  and 
installed  them  in  the  waters,  where  they  had 
thrived  well.  The  present  owner,  a  genial,  talk- 
ative  man   of  but   Httle   culture,   freely   granted 

107 


FISHING  WITH   A   BOY 

them  the  privilege  of  fishing  and  loaned  them  a 
boat  and  a  pair  of  oars.  "The's  some  big  carps 
in  there,"  he  said,  "We  get  one  once  in  a  while, 
but  they  are  much  harder  to  get  than  they  are 
good  to  eat,  though  once  in  a  while  they  don't  go 
so  bad.  A  sort  of  a  dude  feller  was  over  here  las' 
week  and  he  got  three  good  ones.  It  rained  some 
— they  don't  seem  to  bite  much  v/hen  the  sun 
shines  bright — ^jes'  'fore  dark  or  before  sun-up  is 
best."  The  man  was  talkative  and  his  tongue  ran 
with  apparent  ease.  "This  feller  had  several 
kinds  of  baits,  an'  said  he  had  ketched  'em  with 
lima  beans  once  or  twice."  Matt  straightened 
up.  "Lima  beans  again,"  he  thought.  "I'll  bet 
Mr.  Adams  told  him  to  say  that  when  he  went  to 
the  barn  after  him.  He's  a-stringin'  me."  Mr. 
Woodhull  rowed  the  boat,  heading  it  well  up  to- 
ward several  treetops  which  had  fallen  into  the 
water.  "Such  places  are  the  best  for  crappies," 
he  said;  "they  lie  in  the  shadows  of  bank  and 
brush."  "Your  poles  are  too  heavy  to  have  good 
sport  with  these  fish,"  said  Mr.  Adams.  "We'll 
go  ashore  and  cut  some  long  birch  ones,  just 
heavy  enough  to  make  a  good  weight  whip." 
Matt  went  ashore  and  soon  returned  with  what 
Mr.  Adams  said  were  first-rate  ones.  "  'Taint  no 
fun  yankin'  fish  oiiten'  the  water  soon's  they  bite; 
I  like  to  see  'em  scoot  around,"  said  the  lad,  as 
he  proceeded  to  trim  the  poles  to  his  liking.  "I 
thought  maybe  you  would  bring  only  the  heavier 
lines  with  you,  and  so  I   thought  this  would  be 

lo8 


FISHING  FOR  CARP 

good,"  said  Mr.  Adams,  as  he  produced  some 
heavy  linen  thread  which  he  had  carefully  waxed. 
"This  works  well  with  small  hsh  and  will  last  for 
several  trips  it  cared  for;  besides,  it  will  land  a 
good-sized  fish  if  well  handled — the  same  hooks 
we  used  for  perch  are  good."  Mr.  Adams  used  a 
very  light  split-bamboo,  much  the  same  in  weight 
as  a  fly-rod,  but  shorter.  "Cast  well  up  to  the 
treetops;  we'll  get  them  there  if  at  all,  as  they  lie 
in  the  shade." 

The  boy  was  rewarded  with  the  first  bite  and 
his  cork  went  away  with  a  series  of  sharp  nibbles 
and  then  went  down  with  a  rush  and  out  of  sight. 
Then  he  struck.  His  slender  whip-like  pole  bent 
nearly  double  and  the  line  cut  the  water  clear 
around  the  boat,  while  the  men  raised  their  tackle 
to  give  the  fish  full  play.  "Gee,  but  he's  a  sport!" 
cried  the  delighted  Pvlatt,  as  Mr.  Woodhull  slipped 
the  net  under  the  fish  and  laid  it  in  the  boat. 

Here  was  a  fish  which  neither  Mr.  Woodhull 
nor  the  boy  had  ever  seen  a  specimen  of  before; 
much  like  a  sunfish  in  shape,  but  greenish-bronze 
in  color  and  darker  freckle-like  markings,  with 
mouth  and  head  quite  like  a  white  perch.  Its 
weight  was  about  one  pound.  "It's  a  good  one," 
said  Mr.  Adams.  The  boy  gloated  over  it,  closely 
examining  its  fins  and  all  points  with  interest. 
"Seems  'ough  it  intended  to  stay  in  the  water 
after  it  was  hooked,"  he  said,  as  much  to  himself 
as  for  other  ears.  "I  guess  if  they  growed  to  ten 
pounds  they'd  mos'  do  it."     He  baited  his  hook 

109 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

and  resumed  fishing.  "Don't  make  any  noise  on 
the  bottom  of  the  boat,"  admonished  Mr.  Adams. 
"They  are  very  shy,  and  will  leave  the  neighbor- 
hood if  disturbed  that  way. 

"There  are  no  fish  better  known  in  Southern 
waters.  They  are  fished  for  a  great  deal.  They 
are  generally  found  in  muddy  waters,  and  will 
take  minnows  as  well  as  worms  and  sometimes 
pieces  of  fish.  They  are  called  'strawberry  bass' 
by  a  good  many  people.  They  look  much  alike, 
but  are  not  the  same  fish.  They  are  good  fish  to 
eat,  put  up  a  good  fight  when  hooked  with  light 
tackle,  and  should  be  stocked  in  all  the  waters 
in  this  part  of  the  country."  The  lad  was  never 
more  interested  than  when  listening  to  Mr.  Adams 
when  he  was  giving  information  about  fish  which 
were  strange  to  him. 

Several  more  crappies  were  taken  from  the 
same  place,  but  none  quite  so  large  as  the  first 
one.  Just  before  leaving  for  the  channel  to  try 
for  carp,  Matt  had  a  bite  and  threw  into  the  boat 
a  beautifully  colored  fish,  rose-tinted  on  the  sides, 
shading  to  a  deep  orange  on  the  belly,  with  a 
bronze-green  back.  "It's  a  long-eared  sunfish," 
said  Mr.  Adams,  admiringly,  "and  they  are  rare 
enough  here."  "I  didn't  know  fish  had  ears," 
said  the  boy  quietly,  and  the  men  laughed.  "See 
this  bluish-colored  spot  running  back  from  the 
gills .^  Hold  it  up  so.  Now  you  see  what  looks 
like  large  ears  lying  along  the  side.  They  are 
only  peculiar  markings  of  the  fish,  but  they  look 

no 


FISHING   FOR   CARP 

like  ears.  These  fish  are  all  along  the  coast  from 
Maine  down,  but  in  some  sections  are  scarce. 
They  build  nests  like  birds,  only  they  make  them 
out  of  gravel  at  the  edge  of  the  water.  They  fan 
the  small  pebbles  away  with  their  fins,  moving 
the  larger  ones  with  their  mouths  until  they  have 
a  hollow  in  which  to  deposit  their  eggs.  They 
then  stand  guard  until  they  are  hatched,  driving 
away  all  other  fish  which  may  come  around.  I 
have  sat  quietly  on  the  bank  watching  their 
movements  and,  putting  a  small  stick  in  the 
water,  I  have  pushed  the  mother  fish  more  than 
a  toot  away  from  her  nest  when  she  would  return 
not  in  the  least  frightened.  There  are  several 
varieties  of  sunfish,  the  largest  being  the  kind 
you  have  taken,  and  they  have  always  been 
hunted  by  the  small  boy  in  the  brooks.  But  with 
trout  rod  and  fly  just  at  sundown  over  shallow 
water;  when  they  are  to  be  found  as  large  as  this 
one  they  are  fished  for  by  men,  as  they  will  take 
a  fly  quickly,  if  it  is  a  dark  one,  always  coming  to 
the  top  of  the  water  for  it.  They  will  live  in 
almost  any  kind  of  water  and  are  good  pan  fishes. 
As  we  have  more  than  a  dozen  crappies,  suppose 
we  get  our  tackle  ready  and  see  if  we  can  get  a 
carp.  They  are  at  times  a  very  difficult  fish  to 
catch;  at  other  times  they  are  taken  easily.  I 
brought  some  4-0  hooks  along,  as  they  require 
about  that  size,  but  not  much  larger.  We  will 
row  slowly  and  keep  our  eyes  open.  We  may 
find  one  rooting."    Matt  turned  on  Mr.  Adams  a 

III 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

look  of  surprise  and  inquiry,  while  Mr.  Woodhull 
said  quietly,  "They  do  root  around  some  when 
they  are  feeding,  I  have  been  told."  "Yes,"  re- 
turned Mr.  Adams,  "I  have  been  after  them 
many  times  where  they  were  feeding  in  shallow 
water  and  could  plainly  see  the  mud  streaks  rising 
to  the  surface  as  they  worked  around  on  the  bot- 
tom in  search  of  worms  and  grubs.  Let's  try 
around  here,  and  if  we  do  not  get  any  we  can  go 
down  nearer  the  dam  where  the  water  is  deeper; 
but  they  usually  work  around  where  the  water  is 
not  of  the  deepest."  Mr.  Adams  opened  his 
basket  and  began  taking  out  such  articles  as  he 
would  need.  First  the  larger  reel  was  put  on  the 
heavier  rod,  after  setting  a  tin  can  down  on  the 
seat  by  him.  From  the  can  he  took  portions  of 
the  dough  and,  rolling  it  into  pellets  the  size  of 
marbles,  began  throwing  them  into  the  water  on 
all  sides  of  the  boat,  explaining  as  he  did  so  that 
it  was  just  flour  and  water  mixed  to  a  stiff  dough. 
Matt  said  never  a  word,  but  sat  watching  it  all 
as  he  adjusted  his  hook  to  the  line,  then  began 
putting  on  a  worm.  "I  would  put  on  three  or 
four  large  ones,"  said  Mr.  Adams.  "These  fish 
like  a  good-sized  bait."  "Don't  look  like  good 
sense  to  me,  'ough,"  replied  the  boy;  "hsh  don't 
find  worms  in  bunches  much,  I  guess."  "Eels  do, 
on  bobs,  don't  they?"  asked  Mr.  Woodhull. 
"Yes,"  said  Matt,  "but  you  have  to  have  a 
bunch  so's  they'll  last."  Following  the  advice, 
he    put   on   several  worms   and   setting   the   float 

1  12 


FISHING  FOR   CARP 

so  the  bait  was  almost  at  the  bottom,  began 
fishing. 

While  talking,  Mr.  Adams  had  opened  a  large 
can,  which  Matt  saw  contained  corn  which  had 
been  cooked  until  it  was  swollen  and  soft.  This 
he  scattered  about  over  the  water  in  a  liberal 
manner,  and  it  slowly  sank  to  the  bottom.  "Here, 
chick,  chick,  chick,"  mimicked  Matt,  as  the  corn 
was  scattered  about.  Mr.  Adams,  watching  Matt 
closely,  set  a  can  down  by  the  boy,  entirely  un- 
observed by  him  until  later  on.  Turning  around, 
the  boy's  eye  fell  upon  it  and  Hma  beans  met  his 
view. 

His  first  impulse  was  to  throw  the  whole  thing 
overboard,  but  they  were  not  his,  and  he  made  no 
comment  at  the  moment,  but  watched  the  two 
men  slyly  exchanging  winks.  Later  on  Mr. 
Adams  put  several  grains  of  corn  on  his  hook  and 
helped  Mr.  Woodhull  with  the  dough.  He  had  a 
small  box  of  it  with  cotton  kneaded  through  it 
so  it  would  hang  to  the  hook  better.  The  larger 
can  contained  plain  dough  with  which  to  bait  the 
grounds.  Presently  Mr.  Adams  took  up  the  can 
of  beans,  which  had  been  cooked  just  enough  to 
make  them  swollen  and  soft,  and  began  throwing 
them  on  the  water.  When  this  had  been  done  he 
set  the  can  down,  and  Matt,  reaching  over,  took 
two  of  the  beans  and  the  same  number  of  grains 
of  corn.  Then  with  his  toe  scraping  aside  a 
quantity  of  dirt  which  lay  in  the  bottom  of  the 
boat,  he  deposited  them  at  the  bottom,  and  care- 
?  113 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

fully  covering  them,  he  patted  the  earth  down 
and  resumed  his  fishing.  No  one  said  a  word  for 
several  minutes.  At  last  Mr.  Woodhull  asked: 
"What  is  your  idea,  Matt?"  "I'm  plantin'  corn 
'n  beans  so's  to  raise  suc'tash  for  ketchin'  carps," 
he  returned.  "Might's  well  have  it  all  on  one 
cob  like  corn,  or  meb'e  it'll  grow  in  a  pod,  I  do' 
know."  Both  men  fairly  exploded  with  laughter 
over  the  whimsical  idea  and  a  little  later  the  boy 
giggled.  Mr.  Adams,  removing  the  corn  from 
his  hook,  selected  two  of  the  largest  and  whitest 
beans  and  carefully  put  them  on  the  hook,  passing 
it  through  the  heart  of  each.  Matt  watched  the 
process  without  a  word,  expecting  to  see  him 
strip  them  off  and  apply  some  other  bait,  but  he 
dropped  the  hook  into  the  water  as  it  was  and 
after  a  lapse  of  perhaps  ten  minutes  said  quietly: 
"There's  one  at  my  bait  now."  Looking  over  the 
side  of  the  boat,  the  line  could  be  seen  moving 
slowly  away.  Then  he  struck  and  hooked  his 
fish  and  a  struggle  was  on.  The  pliant  rod  was 
bent  in  all  shapes  as  the  fish  held  to  the  bottom, 
going  this  way  and  that,  never  swift  in  its  move- 
ments, but  doggedly  determined  to  hold  the  bot- 
tom. Mr.  Adams  made  no  effort  to  bring  it  to 
the  surface,  merely  keeping  the  line  taut  so  the 
hook  would  hold  firm.  Roily  water  soon  showed 
at  the  top,  proving  that  the  fish  was  trying  to  dis- 
gorge the  hook  by  driving  its  jaws  into  the  mud. 
After  possibly  ten  minutes  it  began  to  weaken 
and  was  brought  to  the  surface  and  Mr.  Woodhull 

114 


FISHING   FOR   CARP 

netted  it  as  it  came  up  near  him — a  beautiful 
golden-bronze  fish  of  perhaps  twelve  pounds  in 
weight.  Matt  was  in  ecstacies.  "Gee!"  he  said; 
"if  I  could  hook  one  like  that  I'd  see  it  nights^  an' 
on  beans,  too;  gosh!"  "They  are  the  most  peculiar 
fish  we  have  in  any  of  our  waters,"  said  Mr. 
Adams.  "At  times  they  will  take  almost  any  kind 
of  bait;  then  nothing  seems  to  suit  them  and  it  is 
almost  impossible  to  get  one,  so  it  is  best  to  be 
provided  with  several  kinds  when  on  a  trip. 
They  are  very  fond  of  vegetable  substances,  as 
well  as  grubs  and  worms.  Dough  will  sometimes 
take  them  when  all  else  fails.  Worms  don't  seem 
to  be  what  they  are  looking  for;  try  beans."  The 
boy  looked  a  trifle  crestfallen.  He  had  ridiculed 
the  bean  idea,  so  that  to  resort  to  them  was  like 
touching  a  slightly  tender  corn,  but  he  wanted 
fish  and  he  was  willing  to  make  a  sacrifice  of 
prejudice  in  order  to  gain  a  material  conquest, 
so  he  adopted  beans,  as  did  Mr.  Woodhull  a 
little  later.  An  hour  passed  without  any  more 
evidence  of  carp,  and  they  had  renewed  their  baits 
several  times.  Matt  again  resorted  to  worms. 
At  last  he  felt  a  pull  at  his  tackle  and  was  all  at- 
tention in  a  trice.  "I  felt  something  good  an' 
strong,"  he  whispered  to  Mr.  Adams.  "Mab'e 
it's  an  eel;  it  seemed  to  just  back  away  with  the 
hook."  "Wait  and  hold  perfectly  still,"  he  was 
advised.  "They  are  very  suspicious  at  times." 
A  moment  later  he  said,  "Somethin's  at  it  again." 
A  vigorous  pull  convinced  him  that  the  fish  was 

115 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

hooked.  He  set  the  end  of  his  pole  up  sharply 
and  knew  he  had  connected  with  something  of 
Hfe  and  much  weight.  The  pole,  while  quite 
stout,  was  sharply  bent,  and  the  fish  made  a  more 
vigorous  fight  than  the  one  Mr.  Adams  had  caught 
earlier  in  the  day.  It  went  around  the  boat 
several  times,  not  swiftly,  but  with  the  same  de- 
termined spirit  of  keeping  at  the  bottom,  and  the 
mud  was  soon  to  be  seen  rising  to  the  top  of  the 
water  as  before.  The  heavier  pole  put  more  ten- 
sion on  the  fish,  and  in  about  the  same  length  of 
time  it  came  to  the  top  and  Mr.  Adams  this  time 
made  ready  to  get  it  into  the  net.  When  it  ap- 
peared at  the  surface  and  Matt  saw  it  he  gasped, 
then  dropping  on  his  knees  in  the  bottom  of  the 
boat,  his  attitude  and  expression  of  face  became 
a  fit  study  for  an  artist's  brush.  "Steady  now. 
Just  bring  him  a  little  nearer.  There  now, 
quietly,"  interspersed  by  remarks  from  Matt  such 
as,  "Please,  Mr.  Adams,  don't  let  me  lose  that 
fish.  I'll  never  hook  another  like  him,  never." 
As  it  once  more  swayed  beyond  the  reach  of  the 
net  he  said  plaintively,  "Won't  you  please  pray, 
Mr.  Woodhull?  You  ain't  busy."  It  is  doubtful 
if  the  boy  was  really  aware  of  just  what  he  was 
saying,  so  absorbed  was  he  in  the  capture  and  so 
fearful  the  fish  would  escape.  At  last,  however, 
the  net  was  worked  under  its  head  and  with  a 
quick  lift  the  body  slid  in  and  laid  in  the  boat. 
Matt's  ecstacies  knew  no  bounds.  He  was  on  his 
knees  beside  the  fish  and  had  taken  its  measure 

ii6 


FISHING  FOR  CARP 

several  times  with  his  outstretched  hands.  "I'd 
a'  never  b'Heved  there  was  such  a  fish  in  all  cre- 
ation, 'cept  a  whale,"  he  said.  The  carp  would 
weigh  fully  eighteen  pounds,  and  was  a  fine  speci- 
men in  all  particulars.  Well  might  the  boy  be 
proud.  Mr.  Woodhull  later  took  one  of  about 
twelve  pounds  and  was  correspondingly  happy. 
As  they  rowed  down  to  the  landing  place  Mr. 
Adams  said:  "Carp  is  one  of  the  most  widely 
diffused  fishes  on  the  globe,  and  embraces  a  very 
numerous  family,  some  of  which  are  very  small, 
such  as  the  goldfish  kept  in  glass  jars  as  pets." 
Mr.  Adams  gave  his  carp  to  the  man  who  owned 
the  property  and  kept  the  crappies  for  his  own 
eating.  Owing  to  the  weight  of  Matt's  fish,  he 
very  kindly  drove  down  to  the  cottage  with  him 
as  much  to  see  the  exhibition  Matt  would  make 
before  his  aunt  with  his  giant  fish  as  anything  else. 
She  was  out  in  the  yard  as  he  drove  up,  and  as  it 
was  not  dark  yet  Matt  called,  as  he  hung  the  fish 
over  his  shoulder,  "Aunt  Mary,  I  got  him."  "Well, 
for  land  sakes,"  she  said,  "what  is  it?  How'd  you 
get  it?"  "I  ketched  him,"  said  the  boy.  "You 
never  done  no  such  thing.  Matt  Buckley,"  she 
said  spitefully.  "I  didn't  know  there  was  such 
fish  outen  the  ocean."  *'S'posin'  you  hadn't  a 
let  me  gone?"  said  Matt. 


117 


CHAPTER  IX 

Tales  the  River  told  to  Matt 

It  was  a  long  tramp  that  Matt  took  one  day, 
looking  for  a  suitable  boat  for  use  on  their  vaca- 
tion trip.  Boats  there  were  in  plenty,  but  one 
with  sufficient  capacity  for  three  men  with  food 
and  tent  was  not  an  easy  matter;  besides,  few 
men  with  a  really  good  boat  would  be  willing  to 
let  it  to  a  mere  boy,  to  be  gone  a  week  or  more. 
He  realized  this  when  he  began  bargaining,  but 
he  finally  found  a  man  who,  when  told  that  he 
was  doing  the  errand  for  two  men  who  would 
give  it  good  care  and  were  willing  to  pay  him  for 
its  use,  gave  his  consent.  The  boat  was  of  the 
type  known  among  bay  and  river  fishermen  as 
"half-round  bottom,"  built  of  cedar,  and  had  bow 
and  stern  lockers  capable  of  holding  ample  store 
of  provisions. 

The  lad  had  counted  on  finding  a  boat  about 
four  miles  down  the  river,  but  he  had  gone  a  good 
seven  miles  before  finding  what  he  deemed  would 
fill  the  bill  of  instructions  as  given  him  by  Mr. 
Adams. 

He  could  not  set  the  exact  date  on  which  they 
would  call  for  it,  but  it  made  no  difl^erence  to  the 
owner,  as  he  would  not  need  it  until  the  fall  fish- 

ii8 


TALES  THE  RIVER  TOLD 

ing  season  began.  Matt  reached  home  about  the 
middle  of  the  afternoon,  dusty  and  really  tired, 
as  he  had  followed  the  river  winding  part  of  the 
way  back,  which  had  materially  increased  the 
distance  home.  Mr.  Woodhull  was  sitting  on  the 
little  porch  talking  with  Aunt  Mary  as  he  came 
through  the  gate.  She  had  formed  a  great  liking 
for  the  man.  He  was  so  frail-looking  when  she 
first  met  him,  and  now,  while  far  from  robust, 
the  short  summer  had  put  elasticity  in  his  step, 
color  in  his  cheeks,  as  well  as  a  perceptible  round- 
ness to  his  figure,  all  of  which  was  pleasing  to  her 
and  good  to  behold. 

They  had  been  discussing  Matt  pretty  freely 
before  his  arrival.  Mr.  Woodhull  spoke  of  him 
as  one  who  was  never  cruel  to  any  helpless  thing, 
and  whose  language,  while  droll  in  the  extreme 
at  times,  was  never  of  a  low  order. 

His  aunt,  while  "keepin',''  as  she  said,  "a  tight 
rein  on  him,"  knew  in  her  heart  that  he  was  not  a 
bad  boy,  and  that  each  month  added  to  her  com- 
forts through  his  increased  earnings  in  a  way 
different  from  all  others.  He  would  rather  make 
one  dollar  catching  frogs  or  "giggin'  "  suckers 
than  to  make  two  at  other  work,  even  if  he  had  to 
work  twice  as  hard  in  order  to  do  it.  "An'  so," 
she  said,  "I  don't  understand  him  at  all.  He'll 
fairly  freeze  his  fingers  off  in  winter  to  get  a 
mus'rat,  an'  when  he  snares  a  rabbit  he  acts  as 
if  he'd  done  somethin'  grand.  I  keep  him  in 
school  in  winter  an'  he  learns,  but  you  can't  get 

119 


FISHING  WITH  A  BOY 

him  away  from  his  outlandish  way  of  talkin'; 
seems  born  in  him."  Aunt  Mary  sat  thoughtful 
for  a  few  minutes  and  then  said:  "I  do  wish 
there  was  some  way  to  get  him  and  Ned  Southard 
on  better  terms.  He's  older'n  bigger'n  Matt,  an' 
I  worry  some,  fearin'  he'll  sometime  hurt  him. 
He's  picked  on  him  for  years,  for  why  I  don't 
know,  but  Matt  manages,  as  he  says,  to  keep 
about  square,  an'  he  does,  an'  sometimes  a  little 
more."  In  her  quiet  laugh  it  was  easy  to  trace  a 
little  note  of  triumph. 

On  seeing  his  friend,  Matt  greeted  him  with  his 
free-and-easy  "Hello,"  and  seating  himself  on  the 
porch,  leaned  his  head  back  against  one  of  the 
posts  and  continued:  "I  s'posed  I  could  find  a 
boat  nearer'n  I  did,  but  none  would  do  like  Mr. 
Adams  said  he  wanted  till  I  got  the  one  I  did. 
It's  been  some  trip.  I  had  to  promise  him  two 
dollars  for  the  use  of  it  for  the  trip.  Wonder  if 
Mr.  Adams'll  kick?  But  she's  a  good  boat  an' 
lots  o'  room,  an'  say,"  he  went  on  without  stop- 
ping for  reply,  "I  seen  a  mink  carryin'  a  fish  down 
'long  the  river;  never  seen  one  with  a  fish  'fore. 
Wish't  I'd  had  a  gun."  "You're  forever  talkin' 
gun,"  broke  in  his  aunt.  "I  wish  there  was 
never  none  made.  You'd  blow  your  foolish  head 
off  first  thing,"  and  she  began  busying  herself 
in  the  kitchen.  Meanwhile  many  things  were 
discussed  by  man  and  boy.  The  latter  had  not 
had  dinner,  and  he  knew  his  aunt  was  preparing 
something  for  him,  and  she  soon  appeared  with 

1 20 


TALES  THE  RIVER  TOLD 

two  egg  sandwiches  and  a  glass  of  milk,  which 
were  readily  disposed  of  by  the  hungry  lad. 

The  morning  of  their  departure  was  dull  and 
heavy  clouds  gave  promise  of  approaching  rain. 
The  two  men,  with  Mr.  Adams'  hired  man,  drove 
up  early,  but  not  too  early  for  Matt,  as  his  poles 
were  already  at  the  gate.  Aunt  Mary  had  fussed 
about  since  before  daylight,  grumbling  consider- 
ably about  "wastin'  time  on  fool  fishin'  trips." 
Matt  had  dug  a  basket  of  sweet  potatoes  from  the 
garden,  and  while  disposing  of  them  his  aunt 
produced  a  boiled  ham  from  somewhere.  She 
had  bought  it  and  prepared  it  without  his  knowl- 
edge, and  he  was  delighted  to  feel  she  was  con- 
tributing a  share  of  the  food.  A  jar  of  preserves 
went  in  next  and  some  eggs.  "I  shouldn't  a  been 
so  foolish  as  to  let  you  go  on  no  trip  like  this," 
she  put  at  him.  "It  ruins  boys  lettin'  of  'em  run 
off  here'n  there.  Lan's  sakes!"  she  continued, 
"go  an'  put  on  your  shoes  this  minute,  an'  for 
once  roll  your  trousers  down  an'  look  like  folks. 
You'd  be  goin'  without  a  coat,  I  s'pose,  too." 
This  lecture  took  place  before  the  arrival  of  the 
wagon,  which,  with  tent  and  other  paraphernalia 
and  with  Matt's  poles  as  well  as  those  of  the  tent 
sticking  out  behind,  looked  motley  enough. 
"Now  see  he  don't  get  into  no  fool  trouble,"  she 
said  to  Mr.  Adams  as  they  prepared  to  start. 
Matt  had  seated  himself  on  top  of  the  tent,  which 
gave  him  a  much-elevated  position.  "I  hope  we 
see  Ned  Southard  as  we  go  along.    I  wouldn't  like 

121 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

to  leave  without  saying  a  good-bye  to  him."  "If 
you'd  keep  that  pert  tongue  of  yours  to  yourself 
more  you'd  have  less  trouble  with  him,  in  my 
opinion,"  snapped  his  aunt,  then  adding  as  the 
wagon  rolled  away,  "I  declare  you  look  jes  like 
gipsies."  "Your  aunt  thinks  a  lot  of  you,"  said 
Mr.  Woodhull,  "although  she  wouldn't  say  as 
much  to  your  face.  You  tease  her  some,  yet  you 
stick  to  her,  and  she  knows  it  and  says  so." 

"Well,"  replied  Matt,  "she's  walloped  me  good 
an'  plenty  in  times  past,  an'  won't  stand  for  no 
sass  yet,  still  I  don't  reckon  she'd  stan'  by  and  see 
me  die  'thout  givin'  me  pep'mint  or  castor  oil." 
As  they  jogged  along  Matt's  attention  was 
centered  on  a  hawk  which  had  marked  down  a 
meadow  lark  for  a  meal,  and  he  noticed  it  would 
not  strike  its  intended  victim  while  it  was  on  the 
ground.  As  soon  as  the  lark  would  take  wing  the 
hawk  would  give  pursuit,  then  would  continue 
circling  when  the  bird  dropped  again. 

How  the  contest  ended  he  never  knew,  as  he 
suddenly  became  aware  that  there  were  cows  in 
the  road,  and  upon  looking  around  saw  Southard 
driving  them  from  the  lane  toward  an  adjoining 
pasture.  Southard  was  standing  by  the  roadside, 
wondering  at  the  strange  outfit  when  he  espied 
who  was  on  the  wagon.  To  offer  any  attack  was 
not  to  be  thought  of,  as  Matt  had  ample  protec- 
tion, but  he  couldn't  restrain  sarcasm.  "Hello, 
Freckles!"  he  shouted.  "Leavin'  the  country?" 
"Well,"  came  the  quick  reply,  "suckers  has  quit 

122 


TALES  THE  RIVER  TOLD 

bitin',  an'  not  bein'  glued  down,  I  go  'bout  where 
I  want  to."  Here  was  a  double  taunt,  and  South- 
ard grabbed  a  clod  of  dirt  and  hurled  it  with  all 
his  force  at  the  head  of  the  sharp-tongued  lad. 
Matt  dodged,  and  the  driver,  who  had  turned  his 
head  at  the  conversation  between  the  two  boys, 
received  the  lump  of  dirt  on  the  side  of  the  head, 
sending  his  hat  spinning  to  the  ground.  He  looked 
just  in  time  to  see  who  had  fired  the  clod,  and 
dropping  the  reins  into  the  hands  of  Mr.  Adams, 
and  whalebone  whip  in  hand,  he  was  on  the  ground 
nearly  as  soon  as  the  hat.  Southard  took  in  the 
situation  at  a  glance  and  started  for  the  fence  at 
full  speed,  but  he  had  a  nimble  pursuer,  and  as  he 
vaulted  the  fence  he  was  caught  by  the  whip  in 
such  a  manner  as  to  raise  a  cloud  of  dust  from  the 
seat  of  his  trousers,  which  was  followed  by  a  howl 
of  agony. 

Matt  was  on  the  ground  by  the  time  the  race 
had  started  and  had  picked  up  tl;ie  driver's  hat. 
Southard,  finding  he  was  to  be  pursued  no  further, 
stood  nursing  the  livid  welt  he  had  received  from 
the  cut  of  the  whip  and  hurling  invectives  at  both 
Matt  and  the  driver.  As  they  started  away  Matt 
observed:  "That  ol'  whalebone's  some  whip.  Gee! 
did  you  hear  her  whistle.^" 

They  found  their  boat  in  readiness  when  they 
reached  their  destination,  and  received  much  in- 
formation from  the  boat  owner  as  to  where  good 
camping  sites  might  be  found.  It  was  about  ten 
miles  to  where  the  river  broadened  out  into  a  bay, 

123 


FISHING  WITH  A  BOY 

and  it  did  not  get  much  wider  than  fifty  feet  until 
it  reached  the  bay.  There  was,  however,  good 
depth  of  water  and  many  very  deep  holes  or  pools 
along  the  entire  course.  About  a  mile  from  one  of 
the  best  camping  sites  there  was  a  store  where 
supplies  of  all  kinds  could  be  procured.  The 
site  spoken  of  would  be  easily  recognized,  as  it 
was  where  a  high,  gravelly  point  ran  down  to  the 
water,  and  on  the  summit  stood  two  large  cedar 
trees.  Their  course  being  down-stream,  there  was 
little  rowing  to  be  done,  just  enough  to  keep  the 
boat  guided  right,  and  they  thought  they  would 
reach  their  destination  by  two  o'clock  at  the 
latest.  Mr.  Adams  told  his  driver  he  would  get 
word  to  him  when  to  come  for  them,  and  they 
began  dropping  down  the  stream.  Each  of  the 
men  had  an  oar  outboard  on  opposite  sides  of 
the  boat  to  steady  the  drift  and  make  the  bends 
in  the  stream.  High  banks  ran  down  to  the  water 
most  of  the  way,  and  in  the  main  they  were 
heavily  wooded,  so  that  they  were  almost  con- 
stantly shaded  from  the  sun.  Giant  oak,  ash, 
and  hickory  trees  threw  their  arms  across  the 
stream  so  that  at  times  they  touched.  To  Matt 
it  seemed  a  wilderness,  and  to  him,  like  all  nature 
lovers,  there  was  an  unspeakable  grandeur  in 
solitude,  and  he  was  impressed  by  it  in  a  manner 
which  grew  until  it  governed  all  his  actions  in 
maturer  years.  Fallen  trees  impeded  their  passage 
from  time  to  time,  but  by  the  use  of  the  ax  such 
obstructions  were  overcome  and  in  due  time  their 

124 


< 


TALES  THE  RIVER  TOLD 

goal  was  reached.  They  were  soon  hard  at  work, 
Mr.  Adams  proving  his  perfect  knowledge  of 
camp  construction  and  detail.  Their  tent,  which 
was  commodious,  was  soon  up  and  arrangements 
for  their  outdoor  fire  made  complete  by  securing 
two  small-size  green  logs  and  by  facing  them 
slightly  with  the  ax  the  flattened  side  laid  upper- 
most, so  that  pans  and  kettles  would  set  on  them 
without  sliding  off,  leaving  but  a  few  inches  of 
space  between  them  for  the  fire.  Mr.  Woodhull 
and  Matt  were  much  surprised  to  see  how  very 
small  a  fire  would  serve  to  cook  a  good  meal 
when  made  in  this  manner.  Net  hammocks  had 
been  provided  and  swung  low,  supported  by  the 
stout  tent  poles  and  stakes  driven  into  the  ground, 
and  a  pair  of  blankets  each  completed  their  sleep- 
ing arrangements.  There  was  plenty  of  wood 
lying  around  ready  to  be  broken  up  with  the  ax. 

Then  followed  their  first  meal — and  such  a 
meal!  Aunt  Mary's  ham  in  generous  slices,  bread 
and  butter  in  plenty,  with  coffee  made  from  the 
waters  of  a  spring  which  bubbled  up  from  the  foot 
of  the  gravel  bank. 

Their  very  souls  were  filled  with  gladness  by  it 
all.  Mr.  WoodhuU's  health  was  rapidly  flowing 
back  to  him  because  of  his  basking  in  God's  free 
air  and  sunshine.  Mr.  Adams  was  temporarily 
at  rest  from  the  cares  of  his  business,  and  Matt, 
the  restless,  discerning  boy,  with  nothing  escap- 
ing his  notice,  was  more  than  glad.  A  crow  sat 
well  across  the  river  on  a  dead  treetop,  sending 

125 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

out  an  occasional  complaining  "caw,"  and  the  boy 
wondered  if  there  was  still  a  belated,  not  fully- 
fledged  youngster  of  her  care  which  he  might  find 
over  there  somewhere  and  look  over.  A  brown- 
throated  thrush  sent  out  from  a  nearby  thicket 
its  notes  of  melody,  which,  mingling  in  a  strange 
way  with  the  suppressed  gurgle  of  the  stream 
flowing  at  their  feet,  made  a  symphony  of  sound 
that  city  streets  never  knew.  The  sinking  sun  at 
their  backs  sent  its  rays  slanting  across  the  head- 
waters of  the  little  bay,  glimpses  of  which  might 
be  caught  between  the  trees  from  where  they  sat 
and  made  a  vista  of  rest  which  filled  them  all  with 
content. 

A  waking  dream  filled  the  boy's  mind  a  long 
time  after  the  two  others  were  asleep:  Would  he 
be  able  later  to  go  by  himself  and  pass  as  many 
days  or  months  as  he  chose  in  some  wilderness  of 
woods  and  waters  and  there  regale  himself  with 
all  the  wonders  they  contained?  His  boyhood 
wish  was  wonderfully  prophetic  of  the  years  of 
mature  life. 

Bang!  Mr.  Adams  had  brought  along  his  shot- 
gun, but  had  said  nothing  about  it,  and  had  man- 
aged to  keep  the  leather  case  from  sight,  and  so 
he  had  fired  what  he  called  his  "sunrise  gun." 
Although  fully  light  it  still  lacked  somewhat  of 
that  time.  "Gosh  a'mighty!"  exclaimed  Matt,  as 
he  came  from  the  tent  rubbing  his  eyes.  "I 
thought  it  was  what  Aunt  Mary  calls  the  'crack 
o'    doom.'      1    sure   was   sleepin'   some."      While 

126 


TALES  THE  RIVER  TOLD 

Mr.  Woodhull,  who  had  also  appeared  on  the 
scene,  simply  said,  "I  never  had  such  a  night's 
sleep."  Matt  had  never  before  seen  a  breech- 
loading  shotgun,  and  he  examined  it  to  his  heart's 
content,  breaking  it  down  and  closing  it  many 
times,  after  which  he  said,  when  trying  it  to  his 
shoulder,  "I  bet  I  could  shoot  her  good."  Flap- 
jacks, bacon,  eggs,  and  coffee  comprised  the  morn- 
ing meal,  and  when  over  Matt  remarked:  "It's 
lucky  we  ain't  got  a  dog  along  to  eat  up  the 
leavin's,  cause  there  ain't  none."  The  owner  of 
the  boat  had  put  a  crab  net  in,  saying  as  he  did 
so,  "You'll  need  that  for  catchin'  bait."  He  also 
put  in  a  piece  of  old  mosquito  net,  with  the  re- 
mark, "If  you  want  shrimps,  Hne  your  net  with 
that."  With  tackle  aboard,  they  started  away 
from  the  httle  landing  and  were  soon  out  into  the 
open  waters  of  the  small  bay.  They  were  now  on 
salt  water  and  in  the  early  morning  hour  could 
plainly  sense  it  in  their  breathing.  It  was  the  first 
experience  the  boy  had  ever  had  with  salt  water 
and  he  scooped  a  small  portion  up  in  his  hands 
and  tasted  it,  after  which  he  spat  it  out,  simply 
saying,  "She's  salt,  sure  'nough."  Then,  "What 
you  goin'  to  do  for  bait?"  he  asked  Mr.  Adams, 
who  was  leisurely  pulling  his  oar.  "Well,"  repHed 
Mr.  Adams,  "we  want  some  crabs  the  first  thing, 
and  then  we  must  hunt  for  deep  water  for  fishing. 
We  may  have  much  better  luck  back  up  the  river 
in  the  deep  water  there.  At  this  season  many 
kinds  of  fish  stay  where  salt   and  fresh  waters 

127 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

just  meet.  Where  they  were  rowing  the  water 
was  very  shallow  and  patches  of  what  Mr.  Adams 
called  "eel  grass"  were  all  about.  He  dropped  the 
anchor  to  keep  the  boat  from  drifting  and  was 
soon  at  work  with  the  crab  net,  running  it  care- 
fully around  under  the  grass.  xA.t  the  second  trial 
he  brought  out  a  large  crab,  which  lay  perfectly 
quiet  in  the  net.  "Now!"  he  exclaimed,  "we'll 
have  some  eating  which  kings  can't  get.  That's 
a  soft  crab,  and  a  great  delicacy.  Put  some  ot 
this  wet  grass  on  it  and  lay  it  in  the  boat  where 
the  sun  can't  reach  it,"  he  told  Matt  as  he  handed 
it  to  him.  The  lad  hesitated  a  moment  before 
taking  it,  asking,  "Won't  it  bite?"  "No,"  re- 
plied Mr.  Adams,  "it  has  just  shed  its  shell  and 
is  perfectly  helpless." 


128 


CHAPTER  X 
Crabs  and  Crabbing 

Catching  crabs  was  a  new  experience  for  Matt 
and  he  reveled  in  the  sport.  He  was  here,  there, 
and  everywhere.  They  were  the  hard  crabs,  the 
swift  swimmers,  and  it  required  quick  work  to 
gather  them  into  the  net.  "These  will  do  for 
boiling  and  the  soft  ones  we  will  fry,"  said  Mr. 
Adams.  "What  we  want  are  the  shedders  for 
bait."  "What's  them?"  asked  the  lad  quickly. 
"They  are  the  same  as  the  soft  ones,  but  they  have 
not  yet  cast  their  shells.  It  is  the  only  way  in 
which  a  crab  can  grow,"  continued  Mr.  x-^dams, 
"when  they  are  freed  from  the  hard  shells,  and  it 
is  one  of  the  many  queer  affairs  of  nature  that 
when  they  are  in  that  condition  they  make  the 
very  best  of  bait  for  any  fish,  whether  salt  or 
fresh  water." 

In  a  pocket  of  water  formed  by  some  sunken 
driftwood  which  had  been  washed  down-stream 
by  some  freshet  of  previous  years  were  to  be  seen 
several  crabs  clinging  to  the  seaweed  and  sides 
of  the  wood,  and  they  were  very  slow  in  their 
movements  when  disturbed.  "These  are  'shed- 
ders,' as  we  call  them,  and  they  have  hidden  here 
as  best  they  could  until  they  have  released  them- 
selves from  their  old  shells.  Every  fish  that 
9  129 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

swims  hunts  for  them  when  they  are  soft,  so  that 
the  crabs  get  away  up  in  the  headwaters  and  hide 
among  wreckage  and  grass  to  escape  their  enemies. 
You  will  see   these  are  easily   taken,"   said  Mr. 
Adams,  and  he  dipped  the  net  down  and  under 
one,  which  he  raised  to  the  surface  without  any 
effort  to  escape,  and  he  tested  it  by  pressing  his 
finger   against    the   underside  of  the   crab   at   its 
extreme  end,  when  the  shell  gave  way  as  easily 
as  an  eggshell,  and  breaking  the  end  of  the  nipper 
claws  off,  it  was  rendered  harmless.     Matt,  al- 
though  living   within    twenty   miles   of   the   sea- 
shore, had  seen  but  few  crabs  and  knew  nothing 
of  their  nature  beyond  that  they  were  dangerous 
to  the  fingers  and  that  they  were  good  to  eat. 
Mr.  Woodhull  was  but  little  better  informed  and 
was  equally  interested.     While  the  catching  went 
on  they  were  cared  for  as  Mr.  Adams  suggested, 
and  they  were  pleased  when   he  told   them  there 
was  much  to  be  told  in  relation  to  crabs  and  their 
ways  of  life.     What  surprised  the  boy  the  most 
was  the  speed  with  which  the  hard  crabs  went 
through  the  water,  and  he  studied  them  thought- 
fully.   While  Mr.  Adams  seemed  pretty  well  versed 
in  relation  to  fresh-water  fish  of  most  kinds,  he 
seemed    to    have    full    knowledge   of  the    natural 
history  of  everything  in   and   about   salt   water, 
and  he  greatly  interested  the  boy. 

When  Mr.  Adams  said  they  had  sufficient  for 
their  present  needs.  Matt  sat  down  on  the  side  of 

130 


CRABS   AND   CRABBING 

the  boat  and  was  buried  in  thought,  his  eyes 
wandering  from  point  to  point.  "Gosh!"  he  ex- 
claimed in  his  usual  manner  when  in  great  earnest- 
ness, "1  knew  the  water  was  runnin'  down  this 
way,"  pointing  toward  the  beach,  "not  more'n  a 
half  hour  ago,  an'  now  it's  runnin'  back  this  way. 
I've  been  wonderin'  if  my  head  was  wrong; 
'sides,  the  water's  deeper  here'n  it  was  an*  the 
sand  ridge  over  there  is  mos'  covered  up,  an'  it 
was  bare  when  we  first  came  down." 

"The  tide  has  turned  and  is  now  running  in 
from  the  sea,"  said  Mr.  Adams;  "it  is  never  com- 
pletely still."  To  the  boy  the  action  of  the  tides 
was  a  mystery.  While  he  might  have  heard  of 
such  a  thing,  it  had  meant  nothing  to  him  until 
confronted  with  the  phenomena.  The  sun  being 
intensely  hot,  the  two  men  decided  it  would  be 
better  to  row  back  to  camp  and  rest  in  the  shade 
until  the  afternoon,  when  fishing  would  be  more 
comfortable.  As  they  came  to  the  camp,  the 
boy's  eyes  were  fastened  on  the  bank  opposite, 
and  he  sat  musing  for  a  long  while  without  com- 
ment. Presently  he  said:  "Seems  'ough  things 
or  me  is  loony.  When  we  went  away  the'  was  no 
roots  showin'  over  there,  an'  now  they  are  all  bare, 
an'  the  water's  low  somehow."  Mr.  Adams  led  the 
boy  to  a  comfortable  seat  and  gave  him  in  detail 
much  information  on  the  working  of  the  tides, 
saying  that  during  each  twenty-four  hours  there 
were  two  complete  flood  and  ebb  tides,  and  of  the 
great  benefit  they  were  to  all  animal  life,  and  how 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

they  prevented  stagnation  of  the  waters,  as  well 
as  carrying  down  to  the  sea  much  effete  matter 
which  would  contaminate  the  banks  along  all  rivers. 
The  moon's  influence  on  the  waters  was  a  hard 
subject  for  the  boy's  mind  to  grasp,  and  he  sat, 
as  was  his  wont,  burying  his  toe  in  the  ground, 
his  earnest  gray  eyes  fastened  on  the  face  of  his 
instructor,  drinking  in  the  knowledge  which  in 
after  years  proved  of  such  value  to  him.  "There's 
somethin'  I'd  like  to  know  more,"  he  said:  "How 
is  it  that  the  water  runs  up  and  down  in  the  bay, 
but  alius  runs  one  way  here  in  the  river?"  The 
boy's  question  was  a  most  natural  one,  and  has 
been  asked  by  many  older  people.  "It  doesn't," 
said  Mr.  Adams;  "it  runs  both  ways  and  at  the 
same  time."  He  then  paused  as  he  made  the 
above  puzzling  statement,  well  knowing  it  would 
confuse  the  lad,  and  he  waited  to  hear  what  re- 
mark he  would  make  on  the  subject,  and  it  was 
not  long  in  coming.  Matt's  eyes  were  fastened 
on  a  chipmunk  which  had  run  out  on  an  old  log 
on  the  opposite  bank,  where  it  sat  chattering  its 
complaint  over  the  intrusion  on  its  domain  by  the 
visitors.  Its  jaws  were  greatly  distended  by  what 
was  doubtless  a  quantity  of  seeds  which  it  was 
hiding  for  winter  consumption.  "Looks  like  he 
had  the  mumps,"  said  the  boy.  Here  was  a  sub- 
ject with  which  he  was  familiar,  and  the  little 
animal's  method  of  carrying  and  storing  its  stock 
of  winter  provender  was  to  him  nothing  new. 
Then  reverting  to  the  tide  story,  he  said  a  little 

1  ^x2 


CRABS   AND   CRABBING 

petulantly:  "Shucks!  Might's  well  say  that 
stone,"  which  he  had  just  shied  across  the  stream, 
"goes  an'  comes  back  at  the  same  time."  Mr. 
Adams  was  much  amused,  as  he  had  expected 
some  such  comment.  He  then  said:  "The  water 
has  risen  more  than  two  inches  on  the  old  roots 
over  there  while  we  have  been  sitting  here,  and 
in  a  little  while  they  will  be  completely  covered. 
As  I  said,  the  water  is  now  running  up  from  the 
sea  into  the  bay  and  from  there  up  here,  so  now 
the  water  at  this  point  is  running  up-stream," 
Matt  made  no  reply,  but  arose  and,  picking  up  a 
piece  of  light  bark,  threw  it  out  on  the  water, 
saying  as  he  did  so,  "If  she  don't  go  down-stream 
I'll  eat  her;"  then,  as  if  setting  all  matters  at 
rest,  he  added,  "you  can  see  'thout  tellin'  she  don' 
come  back  none."  Mr.  Woodhull  was  highly 
amused  at  the  way  Mr.  Adams  had  the  lad  puz- 
zled, but  said  nothing  at  that  time. 

"Is  the  water  any  higher  on  the  roots  now?" 
Mr.  Adams  asked,  after  several  more  minutes  of 
waiting.  "Course  it's  higher,"  was  the  answer, 
"but  that  ain't  tellin'  me  nothin'  bout  how  it  runs 
up-stream,  when  all  you've  got  to  do  is  look  an' 
see  her  go  down."  Both  men  laughed,  and  Mr. 
Adams,  walking  back  to  the  tent,  soon  returned 
with  a  small  bottle  into  which  he  proceeded  to 
drop  small  pebbles  until,  on  testing  it  in  the  water, 
it  would  barely  float.  He  then  took  one  of  Matt's 
fishing  poles,  and  placing  the  neck  of  the  bottle 
in  the  small  fork  left  on  the  small  end  to  prevent 

U3 


FISHING  WITH   A   BOY 

the  line  from  slipping  off,  plunged  the  bottle  to 
the  bottom  of  the  pool,  saying  as  he  shook  the 
pole  to  loosen  the  bottle,  "Look  now  where  it 
comes  up."  To  Matt's  amazement,  a  moment 
later  he  saw  it  come  to  the  surface  several  feet 
up-stream  from  where  it  was  thrown  in. 

He  said  never  a  word  for  several  minutes,  but 
sat  digging  his  toe  into  the  bank  in  a  most  in- 
dustrious manner,  then  straightening  himself  up, 
asked  pointedly:  ''What  in  tarnation  made  that 
bottle  go  up-stream  'till  she  come  to  the  top  'nen 
stop  an'  go  down?" 

Mr.  Adams,  feeling  it  was  time  to  enlighten 
the  boy,  said  kindly:  "My  lad,  this  stream  is 
like  so  many  things  in  life;  we  cannot  tell  by  look- 
ing at  the  surface  what  is  taking  place  beneath 
to  surprise  or  deceive  us.  All  tides  everywhere 
work  from  the  bottom.  Naturally  the  bottom 
here  is  a  little  higher  than  it  is  in  the  bay,  or  the 
water  would  not  run  down  at  any  time.  The 
tremendous  pressure  of  the  tide  in  the  sea,  as  I 
said  before,  forces  the  water  into  the  bay,  then,  as 
it  rises  on  up  here,  salt  water,  being  denser  or 
heavier  than  fresh  water,  stays  at  the  bottom, 
and  as  the  tide  rises  floats  the  fresh  water  to  the 
top  which,  having  a  natural  fall,  continues  run- 
ning down,  but  only  at  the  very  top,  or  just  as 
much  as  it  is  above  the  level  of  the  water  in  the 
bay.  So  you  see,  as  I  first  said,  the  water  at  such 
places  as  this  actually  runs  both  ways  at  once, 
and  usually  makes  ideal  places  for  fishing,  as  fish 

134 


CRABS   AND   CRABBING 

gather  around  to  partake  of  the  food  which  is 
usually  to  be  met  with."  Before  the  tale  was 
finished  the  look  on  Matt's  face  indicated  that  his 
mind  had  grasped  the  situation  in  an  intelligent 
manner,  and  his  only  remark  was  "Oh!" 

Mr.  Woodhull  busied  himself  with  gathering 
material  for  a  fire  while  the  others  attended  to  the 
crabs,  the  hard  ones  being  packed  in  a  box  and 
covered  with  wet  grass  to  wait  for  suppertime, 
while  the  shedders  were  treated  in  much  the 
same  manner,  being  packed  in  one  of  the 
lockers  of  the  boat.  The  boy  watched  with  great 
interest  the  process  of  dressing  the  soft  crabs, 
which  were  to  be  used  for  their  dinner.  Mr. 
Adams  then  explained  many  things  relating  to 
their  habits  and  importance  as  food.  The  gills 
were  carefully  removed  and  cracker  dust,  which 
had  been  prepared  by  rolling  crackers  on  a  board, 
sprinkled  very  liberally  over  the  crab.  "Never 
under  any  circumstance  cook  a  crab  that  has  died 
before  being  dressed,  as  it  in  some  manner  fre- 
quently generates  a  poisonous  gas  in  a  very  short 
while  after  dying,  and  many  cases  of  serious  ill- 
ness, and  even  death,  have  been  caused  through 
lack  of  such  precaution,"  said  Mr.  Adams. 

Mr.  Woodhull  had  a  good  fire  going  and  pre- 
pared a  liberal  supply  of  smoking-hot  lard  in  a 
frying  pan  into  which  the  crabs  were  laid.  Matt 
had  an  observant  eye  for  the  whole  proceeding, 
and  as  they  were  laid  out  smoking  hot  and  golden 
brown  on  the  plate,  he  said:    "I  do'n  know  if  I'll 

^35 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

like  'em  or  not;  they  look  jest  like  crackin'  big 
spiders."  "If  it  was  a  brave  man  who  first  nego- 
tiated a  raw  oyster,  then  he  who  first  betook  of  a 
fried  soft  crab  was  a  hero,"  remarked  Mr.  Wood- 
hull. 

"Now  don't  hurt  the  feelings  of  your  cook," 
said  Mr.  Adams  with  a  laugh.  Sprinkling  one 
liberally  with  salt  and  adding  a  dash  of  mustard, 
he  laid  it  on  the  boy's  plate,  saying:  "After  you've 
eaten  one  there  won't  be  enough  in  the  bay  to 
keep  you  supplied."  Matt  broke  off  one  of  the 
legs  and  tasted  of  it  rather  gingerly,  neither 
of  the  men  making  any  comment  as  he  continued 
eating  until  the  crab  had  entirely  disappeared, 
then  he  passed  his  plate  for  another  one,  simply 
remarking,  "They're  jest  bully."  After  the  meal 
Matt  was  assigned  the  duty  of  dish  washer,  at 
which  he  was  no  novice,  his  aunt  having  given  him 
full  instructions  in  the  past  and  having  seen  to  it 
that  it  was  well  done. 

"There  is  but  little  use  in  fishing  until  the  tide 
is  just  about  high,"  said  Mr.  Adams.  "From  then 
on  to  low  water  is  the  best  time.  Shrimp  and  other 
fish  food  which  pass  up  with  the  tide  drop  back 
as  the  water  recedes,  and  it  is  then  that  fish  usually 
bite  best  in  places  like  this." 

The  men  lit  their  pipes  and  stretched  them- 
selves prone  beneath  a  giant  oak  which  stood  near 
the  camp,  while  Matt  strolled  down  to  the  water's 
edge  and  made  the  same  experiment  with  the 
bottle    and    found    the    water    still    "runnin'    up- 

136 


CRABS  AND   CRABBING 

stream,"  as  he  said.  He  sat  down  on  the  bank 
and  began  tossing  small  pebbles  into  the  water, 
buried  deeply  in  thought,  with  the  ever-active  toe 
digging  into  the  sod.  Here  was  a  new  world 
opening  up  to  his  vision;  although  only  a  few 
miles  from  his  home,  it  was  a  revelation  to  him, 
as  he  had  never  before  seen  salt  water.  He  had 
eaten  crabs  and  found  them  delicious,  and  their 
habits  had  been  revealed  to  him  by  his  older 
companions.  All  that  they  had  told  him,  so  far 
as  he  had  had  opportunity  to  test  out  for  himself, 
proved  true,  so  why  should  not  all  of  the  many 
things  which  he  had  heard  about  and  which 
seemed  impossible  to  him  be  accepted?  His  very 
soul  was  beginning  to  hunger  for  the  broader 
things  of  life,  to  see  and  know  for  himself  the 
mysteries  wrapped  up  in  the  bosom  of  the  great 
salt  waters.  Here  he  was  at  the  junction  of  the 
salt  and  fresh  and  had  been  promised  fishing 
which  he  had  never  partaken  of  and  knew  not 
how  to  do.  He  was  to  become  acquainted  with 
the  kinds  of  fish  which  thrived  in  either  salt  or 
fresh  water,  and  he  was  in  a  transport  of  delight 
at  the  prospect.  As  he  sat  there  a  large  crab 
came  finning  itself  along  at  the  surface  of  the 
water,  as  is  its  custom  when  all  is  quiet.  Here 
was  a  distinctly  salt  water  creature  enjoying  itself 
in  what  was  surely  at  best  no  more  than  slightly 
brackish  water,  and  he  watched  it  with  interest, 
as  it  gave  him  a  good  opportunity  to  observe  its 
method    of   locomotion.      Its    large    claws    were 

137 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

folded  close  to  its  body  and  it  used  only  the  two 
swivel-jointed    paddles    at    the    back    to    propel 
itself  along,  and  it  seemed  to  move  sideways,  as 
is  true  of  that  species.    He  knew  from  his  experi- 
ence with  them  in  the  morning  that  they  can  swim 
with   great   swiftness    when    alarmed.      Suddenly 
he  sat  bolt  upright  and  his  gaze  was  fastened  on 
a  moving  object  on   the  bank  about  fifty  yards 
up-stream  from  where  he  was  seated.     For  a  full 
minute  he  watched  it,  then  he  cautiously  flattened 
himself  on    the   ground   and   began   worming   his 
way   toward  a  bunch  of  laurels   near  where   the 
men  lay.     As  he  gained  the  cover  he  picked  up  a 
bit  of  light  wood  and  tossed  it  so  it  would  fall  on 
Mr.  Adams,  who  looked  around  quickly  when  the 
missile  struck  him,  and  saw  the  lad  making  the 
most  earnest  gestures  for  him  to  come  to  him,  at 
the  same  time  holding  his  fingers  to  his  lips  in 
token  of  silence.     Mr.  Adams  crept  to  him,  well 
knowing  that  something  out  of  the  ordinary  was 
transpiring   somewhere   near.      "What's   up?"   he 
whispered  when   near  enough   to   be   heard.     "I 
do'  know  what  it  is,"   whispered  back  the  boy. 
"Somethin'  'bout  as  big  as  a  small  dog,  an'  gray 
an'    black,    an'    a   big,    bushy    tail.      It's   workin' 
over  along  the  other  bank  as  if  lookin'  for  some- 
thing."   the  lad  was  highly  excited,  and  he  crept 
forward  with  great  caution  toward  the  bank  of 
the  stream,  but  in  a  direction  toward  where  he 
had  seen  the  animal,  the  man  following  closely, 
and  both  screened  by  the  bushes.    As  they  reached 


CRABS  AND   CRABBING 

the  bank  Matt  peered  cautiously  out  and  for 
several  minutes  looked  anxiously  around,  when  be 
suddenly  ducked  his  head  and  pointed  across  the 
stream  without  a  word.  Mr.  Adams  crawled  to 
his  side  and  saw  the  object  of  the  boy's  interest. 
"That's  a  coon,"  he  whispered.  "I  never  before 
saw  one  prowling  around  at  this  time  of  the  day; 
he's  hungry  and  looking  for  frogs  or  something." 
The  boy  looked  questions  he  would  like  to  ask, 
but  remained  silent.  They  were  not  more  than 
twentv  yards  from  the  raccoon,  which,  entirely 
unaware  that  its  most  deadly  and  dreaded  enemy 
was  near,  was  peering  keenly  under  the  bank  and 
along  the  water.  Then  it  braced  itself  quickly 
and  plunged  into  the  water,  and  simultaneously 
with  the  splash  a  large  crab  went  into  the  air 
and  well  out  on  the  bank.  The  'coon  turned  and 
swam  to  the  bank  and,  after  shaking  the  water 
from  its  fur,  it  walked  or  rather  ambled  to  where 
the  crab  lay.  The  lad  noticed  the  peculiar  gait 
of  the  Httle  animal,  whispering,  "He  walks  jest 
like  a  pacin'  hos  trots." 


139 


CHAPTER  XI 
Mysteries  of  the  River 

It  was  the  first  time  that  Matt  had  ever  seen  a 
raccoon  and  he  was  nervous  with  excitement.  As 
it  approached  the  crab  on  the  bank  both  Mr. 
Adams  and  the  boy  could  see  from  where  they 
sat  the  battle  attitude  of  the  latter  as,  with  its 
cruel  claws  extended,  it  awaited  the  attack  of  the 
'coon,  which  kept  slowly  circling  its  intended 
dinner.  So  quickly  had  the  stroke  in  the  water 
been  made  that  neither  Matt  nor  Mr.  Adams 
saw  whether  the  crab  had  been  thrown  by  the 
jaws  of  the  animal  or  by  a  swift  stroke  of  its  paw. 
One  thing,  however,  was  certain:  it  was  well 
aware  of  the  punishing  quality  of  those  extended 
nippers,  as  was  evidenced  by  the  precaution  which 
it  exhibited.  Here  was  being  enacted  one  of  the 
many  daily  tragedies  of  nature:  the  crab  battling 
for  its  life  and  the  'coon  using  its  cunning  to  secure 
a  comfortable  meal.  So  it  had  been  from  the  be- 
ginning and  so  it  must  end;  each  subject  working 
out  its  own  destiny  in  accordance  with  the  im- 
mutable laws  of  the  universe,  which  to  our  eyes 
appear  in  many  instances  as  comedy,  but  through 
the  lifting  of  a  very  thin  veil  tragedy  is  disclosed. 
Both  man  and  boy  sat  in  perfect  silence  watch- 
ing the  movements  of  the  combatants.     Though 

140 


MYSTERIES   OF  THE   RIVER 

there  was  a  vast  difference  in  the  size  of  the 
parties  to  the  fray,  the  'coon  apparently  well 
knew  that  those  nippers  were  capable  of  inflicting 
severe  wounds,  and  it  was  wary.  Suddenly  it 
sprang  forward  and  seized  one  of  the  claws  in  its 
teeth,  at  the  same  instant  giving  a  violent  shake 
of  its  head  which  broke  the  claw  loose  from  the 
body  of  the  crab  and  it  went  spinning  several 
feet  away. 

The  rest  of  the  proceedings  were  simple.  With 
but  one  claw  the  crab's  defense  was  weak  and  it 
was  soon  rendered  helpless,  when  the  'coon,  re- 
turning to  the  bank,  reclined  at  leisure  and  pro- 
ceeded to  devour  its  prey,  biting  through  the  hard 
shell  and  then  grinding  all  to  a  pulp.  It  soon 
finished  its  repast  and  went  down  to  the  waters' 
edge  as  if  seeking  more  provender.  "Git  your 
gun  an'  le's  see  what  he  looks  like  close  by,"  said 
the  boy,  still  much  excited.  "No,"  returned  Mr. 
Adams,  "while  they  are  good  eating  in  the  winter 
season,  they  are  not  of  much  account  now  and  the 
fur  is  poor;  besides,  they  are  likely  to  have  young 
at  this  period  of  the  year  which  need  their  care. 
They  are  not  a  destructive  animal,  living  mostly 
on  frogs,  fish,  and  such  things,  and  keep  close  to 
streams.  If  caught  when  young  they  are  easily 
tamed  and  make  interesting  although  mischievous 
pets,  and  when  full  grown,  like  this  one,  they 
make  a  hard  battle,  as  many  a  dog,  unused  to 
their  ways,  has  learned  to  its  sorrow." 

Seeing  nothing  more  to  its  Hking  in  the  way  of 
141 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

food,  the  animal  went  its  way  out  through  the 
swamp,  entirely  unaware  that  it  had  furnished  a 
lesson  in  natural  history  to  a  very  observant  boy 
who  later  in  life  became  a  most  ardent  hunter 
and  trapper  of  its  kindred. 

When  they  returned  to  the  camp  they  found 
Mr.  Woodhull  sleeping  soundly,  extracting  from 
the  wood's  atmosphere  rejuvenation  with  each 
breath,  his  appearance  and  actions  denoting  the 
fact  without  question.  "The  tide  has  started 
down,  and  we  will  get  ready  for  fishing,"  said 
Mr.  Adams,  as  he  peered  along  the  bank.  "That 
'coon  took  up  some  of  our  time,  and  we  should 
be  at  it  now."  Matt  quickly  put  the  poles  in  the 
boat,  while  his  companion  was  getting  his  more 
elaborate  tackle  ready  and  was  standing  observ- 
ing the  sleeping  Woodhull  when  the  spirit  of  mis- 
chief, which  was  ever  dominant,  prompted  him 
to  break  a  long  spray  of  rush  which  was  growing 
near  at  hand,  and  he  began  tickling  the  sleeping 
man's  ear,  "Skeeter.?"  he  asked  under  his  breath, 
as  the  man  sleepily  brushed  his  hand  at  the  im- 
aginary pest;  then  a  moment  later  quite  a  vig- 
orous slap  followed,  at  which  Matt  grinned  and 
brought  his  hand  down  on  his  knee,  emphasizing 
his  merriment.  "Gosh!"  he  said.  "I  wish't  for 
a  minute  he  was  Ned  Southard.  See  that  bum'le 
bee?  Well,  if  it  was  him  I'd  have  my  hat  over  the 
bee  in  jig  time,  'nen  I'd  fix  his  wings  so't  he 
couldn't  fly  an'  with  a  stick  I'd  put  it  right  where 
his  pants  is  good  an'  tight  an'  'nen  I'd  squeeze 

142 


MYSTERIES  OF  THE  RIVER 

the  bee  a  little  an'  be  ready  to  run  like  blazes 
when  he  let  out  his  e-e-yow,"  and  Matt  indulged 
in  a  yell  which  made  the  woods  ring,  while  Mr. 
Woodhull  came  to  a  bolt  upright  position.  "Who's 
murdered?"  asked  Mr.  Woodhull,  rubbing  his 
eyes  and  looking  at  Mr.  Adams,  who  was  laughing 
heartily.  "Nobody's  murdered,"  said  Matt  drolly; 
"he  on'y  got  stung  with  a  bum'lebee  an'  jest 
yowled,  as  mos'  anybody 'd  do."  Mr.  Woodhull 
asked  no  more  questions,  but  walked  to  the  boat 
with  the  others,  who  were  still  in  a  much  amused 
humor.  Matt  steadied  the  boat  down-stream 
with  the  oars  to  where  it  was  deemed  best  to  make 
a  trial  at  fishing.  "We  can  only  guess  what  we 
may  get  here,"  said  Mr.  Adams.  "We  are  as 
likely  to  get  salt-water  fish  as  fresh-water,  and  so 
we  will  use  medium-size  hooks  and  trust  to  luck 
for  the  beginning."  The  two  watched  with  much 
interest  as  Mr.  Adams  cleaned  a  shedder  crab. 
He  first  removed  the  large  claws;  then  he  tapped 
with  the  handle  of  his  fish  knife  the  under  shell, 
which  broke  readily,  and  he  removed  the  pieces 
with  his  thumb  nail,  after  which  he  turned  the 
crab  over  and  cracked  the  upper  shell,  which  came 
away  in  two  large  pieces,  the  whole  crab  being 
peeled  as  readily  and  smoothly  as  a  hard-boiled 
egg.  He  then  cut  it  into  small  pieces,  following 
the  grain  of  the  sections  running  lengthways  on 
the  crab,  leaving  a  section  of  the  skin  on  each  piece, 
as  it  helps  the  bait  to  cling  to  the  hook.  "I  think 
we  should  fish   close   to   the   bottom,"   said  Mr. 

143 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

Adams,  "as  in  such  places  it  usually  gives  better 
results."  Matt  had  selected  rather  light  poles 
for  the  occasion.  Although  he  was  entirely  ig- 
norant of  what  class  of  fish  would  be  met  with,  he 
had  to  take  that  chance.  Both  he  and  Mr.  Wood- 
hull  were  shown  how  to  put  the  crab-bait  on  a 
hook,  running  the  hook  through  from  the  flesh 
side  out  through  the  skin.  For  quite  a  while 
none  of  the  party  had  any  strikes  and  the  boy 
was  getting  a  little  restless.  Then  he  realized 
that  something  was  at  his  bait,  as  it  began  moving 
away  with  his  line,  and  he  brought  the  pole  up 
sharply  and  felt  that  his  fish  was  hooked.  It  be- 
gan struggling  in  the  water  and  ran  directly  under 
the  boat.  He  was  anxious  to  see  what  manner  of 
fish  he  was  connected  with  and  played  it  rather 
vigorously,  but  was  cautioned  not  to  be  in  such 
a  hurry  by  Mr.  Adams.  He  at  last  brought  it  to 
the  surface  and  was  chagrined  to  find  it  was  a 
very  large  eel.  But  Mr.  Adams  gave  a  cry  of  de- 
light and  reached  the  landing  net  under  the 
squirming  quarry,  saying  as  he  did  so:  "You  may 
catch  many  fine  fish  around  here,  but  none  choicer 
than  the  one  you  have  just  landed.  That  is  a 
silver  eel  and  is  one  of  the  finest  of  known  sea- 
foods." Matt's  attention  was  drawn  to  the  fact 
that  its  back  was  a  bright  steel  color,  shading 
down  through  silver  to  pure  white  on  its  under 
side.  Its  head  was  broad  in  comparis(Mi  with 
others  he  had  caught  in  different  places.  "We 
will  shake  hands  on  that  prize,"  said  his  com- 

144 


MYSTERIES  OF  THE  RIVER 

panion,  "and  if  we  can  get  another  we  will  all 
have  a  meal  a  king  might  envy.     As  a  matter  of 
fact,  they  are  entirely  too  good  for  most  kings  I 
ever  heard  of;  they  are  best  suited  to  fishermen 
and  other  honest  folks.     You  will  find  a  vast  dif- 
ference in  the  flavor  of  these  salt-water  fellows, 
compared   with   the   fresh-water   kind   you   have 
been    accustomed    to."      Mr.    Woodhull    had    a 
strike  and  he  drew  to   the  surface   a  small  fish 
which  darted  away,  showing  a  bright  silvery  side 
as  it  did  so.    "Debby,"  said  Mr.  Adams.    "Their 
mouths  are  very  small  and  they  are  hard  to  hook. 
They  are  a  fine  pan  fish  and  worthy  of  time  spent 
fishing  for  them.    They  are  looked  upon  as  being 
strictly  a  salt-water  fish,  and  yet  they  are  as  we 
now  know,   here   in   the   fresh   water.     There   is 
much  to  be  learned  in  relation  to  this  very  sub- 
ject.    For  a  small  and  rather  unimportant  fish, 
commercially  speaking,  they  have  a  great  many 
names    by    which    they    are    known    in    different 
places — Debby,    Spot,    LaFayette,    Goody,    and 
many  others.     They  all  mean  the  same  fish,  and 
it  does  seem  a  pity  that  there  has  not  long  since 
been  some  way  established  whereby  the  one  name 
would  mean  the  same  fish  wherever  found.    If  we 
find  they  are  about  here  in  numbers  we  can  put 
on  small  hooks  and  have  sport  with  them.     If  we 
could  see  the  bottom  here  we  would  see  shrimps 
all  about  us.     These  fish  lie  in  wait  for  them  as 
the  tide  moves  them  about.     The  shrimps,  too, 
doubtless  move  about  with  the  tide,  feeding  on 
10  145 


FISHING   WITH   A    BOY 

their  selection  of  food,  which  in  turn  is  feeding 
on — "  "Gee  a'mighty  gosh!"  whooped  Matt, 
"did  ya  ever  see  a  strike  Yike  that?"  His  pole  tip 
went  under  the  water  and  his  line  went  hissing 
down-stream  until  with  a  snap  it  flew  into  the 
air,  minus  the  hook.  "That  was  a  large  one," 
said  Mr.  Adams,  "either  a  weakfish  or  bass. 
You  held  him  too  hard;  you  should  have  given 
him  the  spring  of  the  pole  and  swung  him  around." 
The  boy  sat  saucer-eyed,  gazing  into  the  water, 
too  much  amazed  at  the  suddenness  and  vigor  of 
the  strike  to  utter  a  word.  At  last  he  found  ex- 
pression. "Turn  him  around?"  Might's  well  try 
to  turn  a  yerlin'  calf  around  with  that  line  tied 
to  his  tail,  an'  him  a  jumpin'.  I'll  never  git  an- 
other strike  like  that,  never." 

Mr.  Adams  had  his  bait  taken  off  several  times 
by  fish  too  small  to  be  taken  by  the  hook  he  was 
using,  and,  having  a  reel,  he  was  casting  away 
from  the  boat  farther  than  Mr.  Woodhull  and 
Matt  could  reach  with  their  simpler  rigs.  Mr. 
Woodhull  had  taken  another  eel,  a  good  second 
to  the  one  Matt  had,  and  Mr.  Adams  was  gloating 
over  the  prospect  of  what  he  called  a  royal  sup- 
per. He  had  put  a  large  piece  of  the  crab  on  his 
hook  and  was  permitting  it  to  float  down-stream. 
By  raising  it  to  the  surface  and  then  releasing  the 
reel  he  would  allow  it  to  settle  and  almost  reach 
the  bottom,  meanwhile  working  down-stream  at 
each  lowering  of  the  rod  tip.  He  had  worked  it 
down  perhaps  fifty  feet  when  with  a  jerk  his  bam- 

146 


MYSTERIES  OF  THE  RIVER 

boo  rod  went  double  and  the  reel  set  up  a  com- 
plaining screech  as  the  line  paid  swiftly  out.    Mr. 
Adams  kept  a  taut  line  and  a  cool  head,  while 
,  both  his  companions  became  excited,  the  boy  par- 
ticularly so,  as  he  was  anxious  to  see  a  large  salt- 
water fish  landed.     Presently  there  was  a  splash 
at  the  surface  and  as  a  spray  of  water  went  into 
the  air  the  line  went  slack.     "I've  lost  him,"  said 
Mr.    Adams    regretfully.      "The    hook    was    too 
small,  I  guess."    "Shucks!"  said  the  lad.    "That's 
two  big  ones  lost.     Mab'e  you  didn't  turn  him 
enough,"  and  he  giggled.     Mr.  Adams  took  the 
hint  and  reminded   him   that   he   didn't  lose  his 
hook,  anyhow.    Mr.  Woodhull  hooked  and  boated 
a   fish   of  perhaps   a   half  pound   in   weight   and 
handed  it  to  Mr.  Adams  for  classification.     "It's 
sand  porgy,"  he  said.     "They  run  well  up  into 
salt-water  streams.    They  are  the  immature  mem- 
bers of  a  very   prolific   fish   known   to   deep-sea 
fishermen   as   porgy   or   scup.     They   apparently 
run  up  in  such  streams  as  much  to  escape  their 
enemies  as  to  secure  food.    They  are  an  excellent 
pan  fish  and  will  take  almost  any  bait,  but  must 
be  fished  for  at  the  bottom,  using  a  small  hook." 
The  afternoon  was  well  along  to  its  close  when 
Mr.  Adams  said  he  thought  it  was  well  to  call  it 
a  day  and  quit,  as  they  had  plenty  offish  for  their 
use.    "We  can  try  it  very  early  in  the  morning  if 
we  wish,  as  there  is  no  better  time  than  just  as 
the  day  is  breaking  for  most  any  kind  of  fish." 
"I'd    sure    like    to    know    what    took    our    baits 

147 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

a-hootin'  so,"  said  Matt.  "Seems  'ough  we'd 
ought'a  got  one  of  'em,  anyhow.  Gosh!  Look 
a  there!  What's  comin'?"  He  pointed  almost 
overhead  to  a  large  crane  lumbering  along  in  its 
peculiar  flight,  its  long  legs  projecting  far  out  be- 
hind, making  altogether  a  rather  weird  picture. 
"I  never  seen  nothin'  like  that  afore."  As  it 
uttered  its  piercing  cry,  "A-r-r-r-k!"  Matt  dodged. 
The  bird  was  barely  above  the  treetops  and  the 
boat,  being  sheltered  by  the  bushes,  it  had  not 
seen  the  party  until  directly  over  their  heads, 
when  it  made  a  clumsy  attempt  at  haste,  uttering 
its  startling  cry,  which  in  turn  had  upset  Matt's 
mental  equilibrium.  "Looks  like  he  carries 
crutches  with  him,"  he  said,  watching  in  wonder 
the  long  legs.  Again  the  men  laughed  at  the  boy's 
remarks  as  well  as  his  quaint  manner  of  asking 
questions  and  making  comment.  "That  is  what 
is  known  as  a  blue  heron,"  said  Mr.  Woodhull. 
"The  long  legs  we  see  are  really  stilts  for  wading 
in  deep  water  when  looking  for  fish  and  other 
food.  A  full-grown  one  will  measure  six  feet 
from  its  feet  to  the  tip  of  its  bill,  and  yet  it  will 
not  weigh  more  than  a  good-sized  chicken.  They 
are  nothing  but  bones  and  feathers,  and  are  to  be 
found  at  the  head  waters  of  all  such  streams  as 
this.  They  lead  a  singularly  lonely  life,  and  while 
they  are  frequently  seen  in  pairs  the  young  are 
never  seen  around  these  parts.  They  are  harm- 
less and  never  interfere  with  anything."  "  'Cept 
to  scare  somebody  to  death  mos',"  broke  in  Matt. 

148 


MYSTERIES  OF  THE   RIVER 

"Gosh!  if  I'd  a  been  alone  I'd  a  went  overboard 
when  he  come  that  close  and  squawked.  Don't 
seem  to  be  no  sense  in  anythin'  bein'  so  ugly  an' 
good-for-nothin."  Mr.  Woodhull  had  raised  his 
pole  slightly  and  was  all  attention.  He  had  felt 
a  tug  at  his  bait  and  soon  threw  into  the  boat  a 
fish  of  a  most  peculiar  build.  "That's  a  catty," 
said  Matt,  as  the  fish  was  still  in  the  air,  but  when 
it  landed  at  his  feet  he  changed  to  "What's  that 
thing?"  It  was  in  shape  something  like  a  catfish, 
but  yellow  on  the  belly  and  dark-brown  on  the 
back,  with  great  freckle-like  spots.  It  was  nearly 
all  head  and  ugly  in  the  extreme.  Mr.  Woodhull 
was  as  much  at  sea  regarding  the  name  of  the 
fish  he  caught  as  was  the  boy  and  sat  studying  it 
wonderingly.  "Keep  your  hands  away  from  it," 
said  Mr.  Adams,  who  was  enjoying  the  perplexity 
of  the  two.  "No  need  o'  tellin'  me  that,"  said  the 
boy.  "I'd  hate  to  touch  it  with  a  stick  even. 
Gee!  Ain't  we  seein'  things  to-day,  'ough? 
Birds  'ith  stilts  an'  then  a  fish,  I  s'pose  it  calls 
itself,  ugHer'n  sin." 


149 


CHAPTER  XII 
Fly  Fishing  for  Striped  Bass 

"That  fish,  if  fish  you  can  call  it,"  said  Mr. 
Adams,  "is  one  of  the  most  destructive  enemies 
of  the  oyster  to  be  found.  While  it  is  not  powerful 
enough  to  crush  the  shells  of  the  mature  oyster, 
it  continuously  hunts  out  the  smaller  ones  and 
destroys  them  in  multitudes.  It  is  known  as 
oyster  fish,  toad  fish,  and  by  the  fishermen  and 
boys  as  Sally  Growler,  as  well  as  other  names  in 
different  locahties.  It  emits  a  sort  of  grunting 
noise,  as  you  notice,  and  is  a  pest  wherever  found. 
Do  not  try  to  get  the  hook  out,  as  it  has  swallowed 
it  completely,  and  it  would  crush  your  finger  if  it 
could  get  hold  of  it.  Cut  the  line  and  then  put 
the  point  of  the  fish  knife  between  its  jaws  and 
see  what  happens."  Matt  did  as  directed,  and 
the  instant  the  knife  was  felt  by  the  creature  the 
jaws  came  together  with  a  snap.  The  boy  raised 
it  from  the  bottom  of  the  boat  and  swung  it 
around,  still  clinging  to  the  knife  blade.  "Gee!" 
he  said,  "what  a  biter!"  Its  hold  was  only  broken 
when  he  brought  it  down  with  a  whack  on  the 
seat  of  the  boat.  "Now,"  said  Mr.  Adams,  "cut 
it  back  of  the  head  the  same  as  you  do  an  eel, 
then  throw  it  overboard  and  there  will  be  one 
pest  less  in  the  waters."  The  boy  did  as  he  was 
told,  saying,  "It's  mos'  as  ugly  as  a  mud-puppy." 

150 


FLY   FISHING 

Mr.  Adams  raised  the  anchor  and  taking  the 
oars  said  to  Matt:  "You  can  clean  the  eels  as  we 
go  along  to  camp.  I  want  to  have  supper  over 
before  sundown,  as  I  wish  to  make  an  experiment 
down  here  before  it  grows  dark."  What  the 
nature  of  the  experiment  consisted  of  he  did  not 
disclose.  As  usual,  Mr.  Woodhull  cared  for  the 
fire  and  soon  had  a  good  one  going.  The  eels 
were  carefully  cleaned,  and  as  soon  as  a  pan  of 
water  was  boiling  Mr.  Adams  dropped  them  in. 
He  had  cut  them  in  sections  of  about  four  inches, 
and  while  timing  the  boiling  with  his  watch  he 
was  beating  eggs  in  a  bowl.  In  just  three  minutes 
he  drained  the  water  off  and  wiped  the  sections 
of  fish  dry  with  a  towel,  then  he  dipped  them  in 
the  beaten  egg  and  placed  them  in  the  frying- 
pan  and  sprinkled  them  liberally  with  fine  corn- 
meal.  "We'll  try  a  few  boiled  crabs,  too,"  he 
said,  and  directed  Matt  to  put  a  kettle  of  water 
over  the  fire.  He  then  went  down  to  the  boat 
and  soon  returned  with  six  large  crabs,  carrying 
them  in  the  net.  "Gee!"  said  the  lad.  "Smell 
them  eels  a-fryin';  seems  'ough  the's  more  good 
things  lives  in  the  water  than  on  land."  The 
water  in  the  kettle  began  boiling  as  the  eels  and 
coffee  were  done  and  Mr.  Adams,  with  the  aid  of 
two  small  sticks,  lifted  one  of  the  crabs  and 
dropped  it  into  the  boiling  water.  "Ouch!"  said 
Matt,  in  strong  sympathy  for  the  creature. 
"That  seems  a  tough  dose  for  anything  to 
take." 

151 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Adams  dryly,  they  die  in- 
stantly; besides,  they  sort  of  get  used  to  it."  He 
dropped  them  in  one  by  one,  after  which  a  liberal 
portion  of  salt  was  added  as  well  as  pepper  in 
generous  quantities.  Treating  them  in  this  man- 
ner the  meat  gets  seasoned  through  as  it  could  not 
in  any  other  way.  Matt  stood  regarding  the 
whole  proceeding  with  a  rather  gruesome  expres- 
sion until  he  was  reminded  that  the  eels  were 
waiting  for  him.  Mr.  Woodhull  had  prepared  the 
meal  in  a  neat  manner  and  proved  his  value  in 
camp  life  in  preparing  fire  as  well  as  food. 

"I  wonder  what  Aunt  Mary'll  say  when  I  tell 
her  she  can't  cook  eels  like  a  man  I  know,"  said 
the  lad.  "I'll  bet  she'll  be  mad  an'  tell  me  some- 
thing back,  but  I  never  tasted  any  so  good  as 
these."  Mr.  Woodhull  said  in  all  his  experience 
he  had  never  tasted  their  equal  in  flavor. 

"There  are  three  things  which  go  to  make  up 
the  combination  of  excellence,"  said  Mr.  Adams: 
"One,  because  the  eels  are  trading  down  to  salt 
water;  that  gives  them  a  distinct  taste.  Then  the 
short  par-boiling  makes  them  as  tender  as  meat 
can  be  made.  Next,  frying  them  in  the  beaten 
egg  and  the  cornmeal  until  they  are  done  to  a 
golden  brown,  as  you  see,  they  partake  of  a 
degree  of  excellence  which  is  to  be  had  in  no  other 
mode  of  cooking  that  I  know  of."  When  the  meal 
was  about  over  Mr.  Adams  told  Matt  to  pour 
the  water  off  the  crabs  and  bring  them  to  the 
table,  which  consisted  of  a  wide  board  that  had 

152 


FLY  FISHING 

been  brought  down  in  the  wagon  and  rested  on 

two  sets  of  crossed  stakes  driven  in  the  ground. 

Mr.  Adams  made  a  gesture  with  his  hand  to  the 

other  man,  saying  as  he  did  so,  "I  think  he'll  say 

something."     And  sure  enough  as  the  lad  raised 

the  lid  from  the  kettle  in  which  the  crabs  were 

boiling  he  gave  a  start  and  dropping  the  Hd  back 

walked  to  the  table,  saying  as  he  did  so:    "Them 

crabs  ain't  no  good  now;  they're  all  turned  rusty. 

Must   a   been   somethin'   in    the   water   you   put 
>       •    ■>■> 
em  m. 

Mr.  Adams  brought  his  hand  down  on  the  table 
with  a  decided  bang,  and  Mr.  Woodhull,  shaking 
with  laughter,  said,  "Matt,  every  circus  has  its 
clown."  The  men  explained  to  him  that  all 
such  creatures  as  crabs,  lobsters,  and  prawn  turn 
red  when  boiled,  and  that  these  were  all  right. 
The  boy  walked  back  to  the  fire  and,  taking  up 
the  kettle  and  draining  out  the  water,  brought 
the  crabs  and  dumped  them  on  the  table.  With 
the  others,  he  was  soon  picking  out  the  white, 
flakey  meat  and  pronounced  it  prime.  Mr. 
Adams  ate  but  one  crab,  and  while  the  others 
were  finishing  them  he  busied  himself  setting  up 
his  light  tackle,  and  the  boy  was  much  interested 
in  the  enameled  silk  line  on  the  reel.  He  had 
never  seen  one  before  and  examined  it  closely,  re- 
marking as  he  did  so,  "I  don't  see  no  sense  much  in 
a  line  like  that."  Mr.  Adams  made  no  reply  other 
than  to  say  that  when  he  had  the  dishes  cleaned 
up  he  would  have  a  chance  to  see  how  it  worked. 

153 


FISHING  WITH   A   BOY 

When  the  sun  had  gone  down  behind  the  hills 
and  there  was  a  suspicion  of  shade  creeping  through 
the  woodland,  the  three  stepped  into  the  boat 
and  were  instructed  by  Mr.  Adams  to  keep  it  in 
the  center  of  the  stream.  He  then  attached  a 
long  single  gut  leader  to  his  line.  In  the  loops  of 
the  leader  he  had  previously  fastened  two  gaudy 
bass  flies.  The  boy  forgot  his  steering  and  gazed 
with  interest  at  the  arrangement,  at  last  saying, 
"Them  things  looks  jest  like  that  dude  had  what 
called  me  'Buckskin,'  on'y  bigger." 

"Now,"  said  Mr.  Adams,  "you  fellows  keep  the 
boat  in  the  middle  of  the  stream  and  don't  let  it 
more  than  just  move.  I  don't  know  that  I'll 
catch  anything;  it's  an  experiment."  Stripping 
the  line  from  the  reel  with  his  hand,  he  began 
whipping  the  flies  first  toward  one  bank  then 
toward  the  other,  giving  a  little  line  at  each  cast 
until  he  had  out  all  he  could  command.  Every 
root  projecting  from  the  bank  was  cast  around, 
as  well  as  brush  lying  at  the  water's  edge. 

Mr.  Woodhull,  who  had  seen  some  fly  fishing 
done,  made  no  comment,  but  the  lad,  after  per- 
haps three  hundred  yards  of  water  had  been 
fished  over  and  no  results  showing,  blurted  out: 
"It  sure  seems  to  me  like  fool  fishin'.  Them  bugs 
don't  go  down  in  the  water  none,  as  if  a  fish'd 
come  up  to  the  top  after  somethin'  they  nor  any- 
body else  much  ever  seen  afore."  Mr.  Adams 
kept  on  casting,  and  as  the  flies  touched  the 
water  near  a  lot  of  brush  there  was  a  quick  splashy 

J  54 


FLY  FISHING 

and  with  a  quick  turn  of  the  wrist  the  tip  of  the 
rod  was  sent  upward,  which  immediately  shot 
down  again,  showing  the  fish  was  hooked. 

The  line  cut  sharply  across-stream,  then  up 
and  around  the  boat  twice,  Mr.  Adams  just  keep- 
ing the  line  taut  and  watching  carefully  the  move- 
ments of  the  fish.  "Whatever  it  is,"  he  said 
quietly,  "it  is  not  large  nor  of  the  trout  family,  or 
it  would  have  gone  either  up-  or  down-stream  at 
once  and  not  in  circles."  He  reeled  in  the  hne 
and  told  jNIr.  \Yoodhull  to  get  the  net  ready. 
"I  think  we  can  manage  him  now,  but  this  rod 
is  too  light  to  lift  anything  from  the  water  with." 
The  net  was  lowered  as  the  fish  was  led  up  to  it, 
then  a  quick  dip  and  the  fish  was  laid  in  the 
bottom  of  the  boat.  It  was  of  about  one  pound 
weight  and  instantly  recognized  by  the  lad,  who 
exclaimed:  "It's  a  white  perch!  I  never  knowed 
they'd  grab  a  bug  at  the  top  of  the  water  afore." 

"There's  many  things  in  nature  to  learn  if  we 
look  about  us,"  replied  Mr.  Adams,  "and  we  are 
never  through  learning,  try  as  we  may;  there  is 
too  much  to  unravel  in  one  short  life.  Keep  the 
boat  right  where  it  is.  The  current  is  moving  but 
little  now,  and  there  may  be  more  fish  where  this 
fellow  came  from;  in  fact,  I  knew  there  were 
more  there  when  he  hooked,  as  perch  seldom  or 
never  are  alone."  He  again  laid  the  Hne  lightly 
across  the  same  spot  where  he  hooked  the  fish, 
and  again  there  was  a  splash  and  they  all  plainly 
saw  a  gleam  of  silver  at  the  surface,  but  the  fish 


FISHING  WITH  A  BOY 

missed.  Three  more  casts  were  made  without 
results,  but  at  the  fourth  there  was  a  rise  and 
another  one  was  hooked  and  played  in  the  same 
manner  as  the  first  one.  The  fish  at  once  left  the 
bank  and  put  up  all  the  battle  in  mid-stream  near 
the  boat.  In  all,  four  fish  were  taken  and  all  of 
the  same  size.  Then,  no  more  appearing,  they 
drifted  on  down-stream,  carefully  whipping  all 
promising  spots. 

As  they  approached  a  grassy  point  which  ran 
down  to  the  water's  edge  and  overhung  by  a 
large  poplar  tree,  Mr.  Adams  laid  out  a  longer 
cast  than  usual,  his  f^ies  alighting  close  to  the 
bank,  and  he  began  at  once  retrieving  them  by  a 
succession  of  short,  skipping  jerks.  There  was  a 
swirl  in  the  v/ater,  but  no  splash,  and  the  rod 
went  double.  The  reel  set  up  a  screeching  as  the 
fish  tore  down-stream  for  a  distance  of  at  least 
seventy-five  feet,  where  it  plunged  into  a  pool  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  stream.  Mr.  Adams 
showed  a  trace  of  excitement  as  he  said  sharply: 
"Row  me  down  toward  him  quickly,  but  go  quietly. 
Another  run  like  that  and  he'll  smash  the  rod  or 
break  the  line,  as  he  has  it  most  all  out  now." 
The  fish  was  fighting  deep,  surging  first  to  one 
side  of  the  pool,  then  to  the  other,  the  fisherman 
keeping  a  taut  line  and  reeling  as  the  boat  ad- 
vanced. When  they  were  within  twenty  feet  of 
the  pool,  Mr.  Adams  said  quietly:  "Hold  steady 
now,  right  where  we  are.  T  may  drown  him  in 
this  deep  water."    At  that  remark  the  boy  looked 

156 


FLY  FISHING 

up  with  a  questioning  expression,  but  refrained 
from  saying  anything,  being  too  much  engrossed 
in  the  battle.  For  a  few  moments  the  fish  seemed 
indined  to  sulk  at  the  bottom,  merely  swaying 
from  side  to  side  of  the  pool;  then,  like  a  rocket,  it 
started  up-stream,  the  reel  singing  its  song  of  the 
chase.  The  two  at  the  oars,  taking  the  cue  from 
a  glance  given  by  Mr.  Adams,  began  backing 
the  boat  so  that  the  strain  on  the  line  was  not  so 
great  as  in  the  first  rush.  When  it  reached  the 
spot  where  it  was  hooked  the  quarry  ran  close  to 
the  bank  and  became  inert.  "I  do  not  know  what 
it  may  prove  to  be,"  said  Mr.  Adams,  "but  it 
fights  precisely  as  I  have  had  salmon  do  in  quiet 
waters  like  this.  Whatever  it  is,  it  is  a  dead- 
game  sport,  and  my  hat  is  off  to  it;  but  I  am  more 
than  anxious  to  secure  it."  When  the  boat  came 
to  within  a  short  distance  of  where  the  fish  lay, 
a  motion  from  the  fisherman  caused  the  rowing  to 
cease,  and  he  began  pumping  the  fish  by  short 
pulls  on  the  rod.  This  disturbed  it  and  it  swung 
out  in  midstream,  then  back  to  the  bank,  when  it 
again  sulked  and  was  once  more  brought  into 
action  by  the  motion  of  the  rod.  This  time  it 
started  down  the  stream  again,  but  much  slower, 
and  when  part  way  down  to  the  large  pool  a 
swirl  of  the  water  at  the  surface  was  seen  in  which 
appeared  a  rigidly-set  dorsal  fin,  which  drew  from 
Mr.  Adams  the  whispered  comment,  "It's  a 
striped  bass  and  a  beauty.  I  knew  when  it  first 
struck  that  I  had  a  master  fish  to  deal  with." 

157 


FISHING   WITH   A   BOY 

When  it  again  reached  the  lower  pool  the  boat 
was  close  to  hand  and  was  stopped.  While  the 
killing  game  went  on  many  times  it  came  to  the 
top,  and  each  time  the  rigidly-set  dorsal  fin  was 
in  plain  view,  and  Mr.  x^dams,  with  lines  of  tense 
anxiety  written  on  his  face,  fought  as  only  one 
can  who  dares  not  lose  his  prize. 

After  perhaps  a  half  hour  of  strenuous  work  the 
fact  became  apparent  to  the  man  with  the  rod 
that  the  quarry  was  fast  weakening.  "Get  the 
net  and  be  ready,"  he  said  quietly  to  Mr.  Wood- 
hull.  "Lower  it  gently  into  the  water  and  about 
a  foot  beneath  the  surface,  then  hold  it  perfectly 
still  until  I  give  the  word,  then  scoop  hard  to- 
ward the  fish."  Slowly,  foot  by  foot,  the  line 
was  reeled  in,  bringing  the  unwilling  victim  nearer 
the  net.  The  pliant  rod  bent  like  a  rainbow, 
taking  up  instantly  every  inch  of  slack  line  given. 

At  last  it  was  in  sight;  its  glowing  eyes  could  be 
plainly  seen.  There  was  fire  there  still  and  the 
fighting  spirit  was  not  broken.  It  was  subdued 
through  sheer  exhaustion,  and  the  head  and 
shoulders  were  at  last  brought  well  within  the  rim  of 
the  net.  "Now!"  said  Mr.  Adams  sharply,  and  Mr. 
Woodhull  drove  the  net  back  and  upward.  The 
fish  dropped  heavily  in  the  bottom  of  the  net 
and  was  lifted  into  the  boat,  where  it  lay  rolling 
from  side  to  side,  unspeakable  iridescence  of  back- 
ground and  stripe  showing  brilliantly  in  the 
gathering  dusk- — one  of  the  masterpieces  of 
Divine  conception  of  marine  life. 

158 


FLY   FISHING 

To  tell  which  of  the  trio  was  most  pleased  would 
be  difficult.  The  battle  had  been  fought  to  a 
successful  finish  in  a  masterly  manner  by  Mr. 
Adams,  who,  on  seeing  it  safely  landed,  threw  his 
hat  on  the  bottom  of  the  boat  and  let  out  a  regular 
Indian  yell,  a  thing  totally  unexpected  from  that 
usually  sedate  man.  Then,  catching  Matt's  head 
between  his  hands,  he  touseled  his  hair  in  all 
directions  in  his  exuberance  of  joy.  The  boy,  who 
was  down  on  his  knees  taking  in  every  line  of 
beauty  of  the  fish,  said  good-naturedly,  "Gosh! 
jest  'cause  you  done  somethin'  no  other  livin' 
man  could  a  done  with  a  rig  like  that,  I  guess, 
the's  no  sense  in  usin'  my  head  for  a  football, 
but  jiminy  crickets!  ain't  he  a  beauty?  I  never 
seen  a  bass  afore.  What'll  he  weigh?  An'  catched 
on  a  rig  like  that!  No  heavier'n  a  straw  much. 
Gosh!  I  never  could  a  done  it,  never." 

"It  will  weigh  just  about  eight  pounds,"  said 
Mr.  Adams,  "and  it  is  the  first  one  I  have  ever 
taken  on  a  fly,  although  I  have  known  for  a  long 
time  that  they  will  strike  at  a  bright-colored  fly 
just  at  dusk  or  in  the  early  morning  light,  where 
the  waters  are  absolutely  quiet.  I  have  friends 
who  have  taken  many  of  them,  but  it  has  always 
been  done  at  the  very  head  waters  of  bays  like 
this  and  where  both  salt  and  fresh  waters  meet. 
One  might  fish  this  way,  too,  for  seasons  together 
at  the  most  promising  places  without  getting  one, 
and  it  is  that  very  thing  that  makes  a  capture 
like  this  the  more  to  be  prized.    If  it  were  possible 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

I  would  send  this  away  and  have  it  mounted  for 
my  dining-room." 

"How  mounted?"  asked  Matt.  "You  couldn't 
keep  a  fish  no  time  'thout  spoilin'."  Mr.  Adams 
explained  to  the  lad  how  taxidermists  could  skin 
a  fish  and  draw  the  skin  tight  over  a  form  and  dry 
and  then  paint  it  in  their  natural  colors,  so  that 
it  would  stay  that  way  for  ages.  Mr.  Adams 
never  tired  telling  the  boy  of  such  things.  The 
boy's  walk  in  life  was  so  narrow  his  desire  to  learn 
of  the  great  world  of  which  he  knew  so  little  was 
almost  pathetic.  "We  will  clean  and  salt  this 
fellow  before  going  to  bed  to-night,"  said  Mr. 
Adams,  "and  in  the  morning  we  will  have  broiled 
bass  for  breakfast.  Then  you  will  know  how  they 
taste.  You  saw  for  yourselves  how  they  can 
fight  on  a  line." 

"He'll  never  beat  them  eels,"  said  Matt  forcibly, 
then  added:  "He  was  a  fighter,  all  right,  but  I 
do'  know  what  you  meant  when  you  said  you 
would  drown  him  in  the  deep  pool." 

"That  is  just  what  was  done,"  was  the  reply. 
"These  fish  have  the  habit  when  hooked  of  fight- 
ing with  their  mouths  open,  which  stops  their  gill_ 
actions.  As  a  result  they  sufl^ocate  for  lack  of 
what  we  call  oxygen." 

"Oh,"  said  the  lad,  and  he  thoughtfully  pulled 
at  his  oar.  It  was  a  contented  trio  that  retired 
that  night  with  nothing  but  the  thin  tent  between 
them  and  the  bright  stars,  while  the  trees  close 
overhead  whispered  a  soothing  lullaby. 

1 60 


CHAPTER  XIII 
A  Storm  on  the  River 

The  breakfast  of  broiled  striped  bass  was  voted 
good,  but  Matt  said,  "As  long  as  you're  cookin' 
fish,  why  not  fry  eels?  They're  the  best  ever." 
A  man  came  into  camp  just  as  they  had  finished 
breakfast  who  proved  to  be  the  owner  of  the 
ground  on  which  their  tent  stood.  He  was 
affable,  and  they  learned  his  name  was  Osborne. 
He  accepted  thankfully  the  remaining  half  of  the 
bass,  as  well  as  the  perch  which  had  been  taken 
and  cleaned  the  previous  evening.  They  learned 
from  him  the  nearest  way  to  the  store,  which  was 
not  more  than  a  mile  distant,  and  being  in  need 
of  bread  and  some  other  supplies.  Matt  was  dis- 
patched on  the  errand.  He  changed  his  clothes, 
but  could  not  be  induced  to  put  on  his  shoes. 
"Goin'  is  easier,"  he  said,  "when  you're  travelin' 
light."  When  he  had  reached  the  top  of  the  hill 
Mr.  Adams  suddenly  called,  "Ho,  Matt,  get  me  a 
spool  of  bright  red  thread  and  see  if  you  can  find 
a  half  dozen  or  so  white  chicken  feathers." 

"All  right,"  sang  back  the  boy,  "I'll  get  'em  if 
I  have  to  rob  a  hen," 

"That  boy,"  said  Mr.  Woodhull,  "would  make 
you  like  him,  no  matter  what  happened." 

"Where  did  you  find  him.^"  asked  Mr.  Osborne. 
^  i6i 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

He  was  given  Matt's  history  by  Mr.  Adams, 
who  concluded  with:  "He's  a  rough  diamond  if 
there  ever  was  one,  which  needs  but  poHshing  to 
adorn  any  setting,  but  I  question  if  he  will  ever 
be  weaned  from  his  native  woods  and  streams. 
And  loving  them  as  he  does,  it  would,  in  a  sense, 
be  a  pity  to  do  so.  He  will  find  and  credibly  fill 
some  useful  niche  in  hfe." 

The  three  men  were  still  talking  in  the  shade 
when  Matt  returned.  The  sun  was  burning  hot, 
and  the  lad  showed  its  effects  on  him.  As  he  laid 
down  his  bundles  he  simply  remarked,  "It's 
hotter'n  sin." 

"Well,  did  you  catch  your  hen?"  Mr.  Adams 
asked  as  the  boy  lolled  out  on  the  grass. 

"Gee!  I  mos*  forgot,"  he  said,  and  pulling  from 
his  pocket  an  assortment  of  little  feathers,  big 
feathers,  and  fuzzy  feathers,  observed:  "You 
didn't  say  how  you  wanted  'em,  so  I  took  *em  as 
they  run,  big  an'  little,  on'y  I  got  some  of  all 
kinds.  The'  was  plenty  of  'em  along  the  fence 
right  in  front  of  a  house.  A  little  whipper- 
snapper  of  a  boy  came  out  and  asked  me  what  I 
wanted  'em  for,  an'  I  told  him  I  was  makin'  a 
chicken  an'  I  wanted  feathers  for  it,"  and  the  boy 
giggled  at  the  thought  of  it. 

"It  is  too  hot  for  fishing,"  said  Mr.  Woodhull, 
"and  the  sun  is  so  glary  it  would  be  of  but  little 
use  trying.  I  think  I  will  find  a  shady  spot  and 
take  a  swim.  It  has  been  a  long  time  since  I 
ventured  a  trial  at  that  game. 

162 


A  STORM  ON  THE  RIVER 

"I  wouldn't  remain  in  long,"  said  Mr.  Adams. 
"The  sun  is  so  extremely  hot  you  may  find  a  chill 
to  the  water." 

He  returned  in  a  short  time,  saying  the  water 
was  fine  and  nice  and  clear  where  he  went  in. 
Matt,  who  had  been  lying  quietly  on  the  grass, 
got  up  and  said,  "I  guess  I'll  try  her,  too."  His 
stay  was  much  longer  than  Mr.  WoodhuU's  had 
been,  and  he  decided  that  it  beat  the  "swimmin'  " 
hole  back  home  all  to  splinters.  Mr.  Adams  was 
busy  at  the  table  when  he  returned.  The  feathers 
were  laid  out  before  him  and  he  was  lashing  a 
small  fluffy  one  to  a  hook  with  the  red  thread. 
When  he  had  it  wound  to  suit  his  fancy  he  laid 
a  larger  feather  over  the  first  one  and  resumed 
the  wrapping,  ending  where  he  had  started  with 
the  first  one.  Then,  selecting  a  third  and  much 
larger  one,  he  again  began  wrapping,  making 
three  complete  windings  back  and  forth  without 
breaking  the  thread.  This  gave  to  the  fly  he  was 
constructing  a  very  noticeable  red  body  with 
white  wings. 

"Makin'  bugs?"  queried  Matt,  as  he  leaned 
with  one  elbow  on  the  table.  "I  never  yet  seen  a 
red  bug  with  white  wings." 

"I  don't  know  that  I  ever  did,  either,"  said 
Mr.  Adams,  "but  maybe  the  fish  will  take  a  fancy 
to  it.  I  have  one  fish  in  mind  to  try  for.  I  have 
seen  it  taken  with  only  one  white  feather  on  a 
hook,  and  if  I  can  get  one  I  will  then  tell  you 
what  it  is." 

163 


in  S  H  I  N  G  WITH   A   BOY 

Before  leaving,  Mr.  Osborne  had  told  them 
where  yellow-leg  snipe  were  to  be  found,  and  then 
quickly  decided  that  a  change  of  diet  particularly 
to  those  delicious  birds  would  be  most  welcome 
if  they  could  be  fortunate  enough  to  locate  some. 
"Did  you  ever  shoot  a  gun?"  asked  Mr.  Adams, 
as  the  boy  stood  intently  watching  him  clean 
his  gun. 

"No,"  said  he,  "not  at  anythin'  alive,  on'y  two 
or  three  times  anyhow,  an'  'nen  at  a  mark  down 
at  the  wheelwright  shop." 

"Well,  we'll  see  what  you  can  do  at  this  piece 
of  paper.  Fasten  it  to  that  gum  tree  over  by  the 
bank." 

"That's  on'y  'bout  twenty-five  yards  off,"  said 
Matt  as  he  returned.    "I  can  hit  her  easy." 

Mr.  Adams  slid  a  shell  into  the  gun  and  handed 
it  to  the  lad,  saying:  "Hold  it  hard  against  your 
shoulder  and  when  you  get  sight  at  the  paper, 
pull;  don't  wait  to  sight  again.  The  first  range  is 
always  the  best  one,  and  don't  flinch  when  you 
pull." 

Matt  did  as  he  was  directed,  and  to  his  delight 
sprinkled  the  paper  liberally  with  shot.  "I 
knowed  I  could  hit  her,"  he  said.  "I  often  set  an' 
aim  out  in  the  woods  with  a  stick  at  birds  an' 
things,  imaginin'  I  had  a  gun." 

It  was  so  excessively  hot  that  no  regular  dinner 
was  cooked.  They  had  lemonade  and  bread  and 
butter,  as  well  as  some  of  the  cold  ham  ot  Aunt 
Mary's  cooking,  with  a  portion  of  the  preserves 

164 


A  STORM  ON  THE   RIVER 

which  she  had  packed  in  as  dessert.  When  all 
was  cleaned  away  the  three  stretched  themselves 
in  the  shade,  endeavoring  to  get  cool.  The  two 
men  were  smoking  their  pipes  in  great  content- 
ment, while  the  boy's  very  soul  was  glad  with  the 
rapture  of  it  all.  A  new  world  of  observation  and 
privilege  had  suddenly  opened  out  to  him  and  he 
was  happy  beyond  words.  To  Mr.  Woodhull  it 
was  bliss.'  He  no  longer  dreaded  sleepless  nights 
nor  felt  the  languor  of  a  weakening  disease.  It 
was  a  rejuvenation  of  both  body  and  soul.  Mother 
Nature  had  taken  him  in  her  embrace  and  had 
proven  herself  the  great  physician,  using  pure, 
fresh  air  and  balm  given  off  from  the  whispering 
trees.  The  two  men  had  dropped  off  to  sleep  in 
the  quiet  of  the  place,  while  the  boy  lay  watching 
a  thrush  which  had  flown  into  a  tree  overhead. 
Its  bill  was  open  wide  and  he  could  plainly  see 
the  vibrations  of  its  throat  as  it  panted  from  the 
effects  of  the  heat.  The  lad  wondered  if  all  was 
well  with  Aunt  Mary,  for  despite  her  rather  stern 
ways  with  him,  she  was  all  the  world  to  him,  and 
he  sensed  in  a  boy's  way  that  her  discipline  was 
for  his  material  good. 

He  visualized  her  busy  with  her  household 
duties  and  pictured  the  old  cow  grazing  con- 
tentedly in  the  lot  back  of  the  little  cottage.  It 
all  seemed  so  peaceful  that  the  lad  was  soon 
dreaming  of  a  new  gun  and  a  hound,  and  was  in 
pursuit  of  rabbits  in  a  famihar  swamp. 

A  deep  rumbling  noise  aroused  him,  and  he  was 

165 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

up  in  a  minute  looking  around.  He  noticed  the 
sun  was  not  so  bright  and  that  an  unusual  still- 
ness was  all  about  them.  He  walked  to  the  brow 
of  the  hill  and  saw  a  heavy  black  cloud  coming  up 
rapidly  out  of  the  west  and  through  it  intermittent 
flashes  of  lightning  showed.  "Gee!"  he  said  to 
himself,  "I  bet  it  will  be  a  screamer  when  she  hits 
us."  Then  he  returned  to  the  camp.  Both  men 
were  sleeping  yet,  and  he  sat  down  by  the  table 
for  a  few  minutes.  *'Gosh!  how  I'd  like  to  take 
the  gun  an'  jes'  shoot  her  off  close  by  'em  an'  see 
'em  tumble  over  each  other,  but  it  would  be  makin' 
free  with  what  don't  belong  to  me,  an'  I  won't." 

Another  roll  of  thunder  much  louder  than  the 
first  stirred  him  to  action  and  he  shook  Mr.  Wood- 
hull  by  the  shoulder.  "Better  git  up  outen' 
this,"  he  said,  "les'  you  want  a  duckin'."  Both 
men  roused  up  at  his  call,  and  Mr.  Adams  went 
up  to  the  top  of  the  hill  to  have  a  look  at  the 
approaching  shower. 

He  came  back  at  once,  saying  as  he  did  so: 
"We  may  have  a  heavy  rain  and  a  hard  blow.  I 
expected  something  of  the  kind  after  the  terrific 
heat  of  the  forenoon."  He  then  looked  at  his 
watch,  and  turning  to  Mr.  Woodhull,  said:  "We 
have  slept  more  than  two  hours.  What  were  you 
doing,  Matt?" 

"Well,"  he  replied,  "I  jes  laid  here  on  the  grass 
watchin'  things  an'  thinkin  'bout  Aunt  Mary  an' 
all.  'Nen  I  jes'  took  my  new  gun  an'  houn'  dog 
an'  was  hot-foot  after  a  rabbit  when  it  thundered." 

1 66 


A  STORM  ON  THE  RIVER 

"Oh,"  said  Mr.  Adams,  "we'll  make  sure  of 
things  about  the  tent  before  the  rain  hits  us. 
That  bank  will  shelter  us  from  the  heavy  wind  if 
it  comes  hard,  and  the  trees  will  break  the  driving 
rain."  First  the  tent  pegs  were  gone  over  by  Mr. 
Woodhull  and  each  one  driven  a  little  firmer  into 
the  ground.  The  ropes  to  the  fly  of  the  tent  were 
drawn  taut  and  the  flap  loosened  ready  for  lashing 
on  the  inside.  A  puff  of  dust  and  leaves  came  over 
the  hilltop  and  scattered  all  about  them,  and  the 
swamp  birds  could  be  seen  flying  to  bushy  shelter. 
A  large  gray  squirrel  went  hastily  across  the  knoll 
near  the  tent  and  scurried  up  a  tree  and  was 
soon  out  of  sight. 

"He  don't  want  to  get  his  jacket  wet,"  said  the 
boy,  as,  with  the  other  two,  he  stood  enjoying  the 
fanning  breeze.  "Now  what  told  that  squirrel 
it  was  goin'  to  rain?"  he  asked  thoughtfully. 

"The  same  power  that  told  you,"  said  Mr. 
Woodhull  soberly.  "Instinct  some  call  it;  I  an- 
swer, reason.  What  do  you  say,  Mr.  Adams?" 
They  had  entered  the  tent,  and  large  drops  of 
rain  began  pattering  on  the  ground  and  the  fly 
of  the  tent. 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Adams,  "the  veil  between 
instinct  and  reason  seems  very  thin  and  is  most 
difficult  of  definition.  We  can  scarcely  imagine 
an  animal  reasoning  out  a  problem  through  pro- 
longed thought,  and  yet  there  are  so  many  things 
daily  transpiring  in  animal  Hfe  that  we  can 
scarcely  determine  through  our  powers  of  observa- 

167 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

tion  what  impulse,  or  instinct,  or  reasoning,  if  you 
please,  carries  them  along  to  the  successful  ac- 
complishment of  their  object." 

The  rain  was  falling  heavily  and  the  wind  was 
whipping  the  trees  like  some  unleashed  fury, 
scattering  the  leaves  in  clouds,  while  the  lightning 
was  playing  vividly  through  the  woods.  Then 
came  a  deafening  crash,  accompanied  by  a  flash 
of  lightning  so  intense  as  to  light  the  tent  with  a 
blue  haze,  while  heavy  objects  were  heard  striking 
the  ground.  Mr.  Woodhull  peered  out  of  the 
tent  and  saw  that  a  large  tree  standing  not  more 
than  twenty  feet  from  the  tent  had  been  riven  by 
the  lightning,  and  he  communicated  the  fact  to 
his  companions.  "Look  quickly,  if  you  can  see 
through  the  rain,  if  there  are  any  large  pieces 
swinging  which  might  fall  on  the  tent,"  said  Mr. 
Adams.  Matt  stood  clutching  the  latter's  arm 
in  boyish  terror,  while  the  rain  came  down  in 
torrents.  Mr.  Woodhull  said  he  could  see  nothing 
in  the  shape  of  swinging  or  loosened  parts  of  the 
tree  which  might  be  blown  on  the  tent.  Mr. 
Adams  tried  to  calm  the  boy's  terror  by  explain- 
ing to  him  in  a  way  he  thought  the  boyish  min4 
could  grasp  how  the  earth  currents  and  air  cur- 
rents of  electricity  when  they  came  in  contact 
caused  the  terrible  concussions  we  hear.  "In  the 
present  instance,"  he  said,  "the  earth  current, 
which  of  course  cannot  be  seen,  was  running  up 
the  side  of  that  tree  and  it  was  met  by  the  de- 
scending air  current,  and  at  the  very  jioint  where 

168 


A  STORM  ON  THE  RIVER 

the  tree  is  worst  shattered  is  where  the  explosion 
took  place.  This  takes  place  whenever  an  object 
of  any  kind  is  struck  by  lightning.  It  may  be  a 
tree,  or  a  man,  or  the  side  of  a  house,  or  its  chim- 
ney. What  scientists  term  the  positive  and  neg- 
ative currents  are  always  active  in  storms  of  this 
kind,  and  when  they  are  carried  together  by  any 
object  whatever,  the  impact,  as  it  is  called,  is  so 
great  as  to  tear  to  pieces  almost  any  structure  of 
wood  or  stone,  although  when  an  animal  is  struck 
it  rarely  rends  the  flesh,  as  it  constitutes  what  is 
called  a  conductor,  and  the  animal  dies  from  shock 
to  the  nervous  system."  Matt  sat,  as  was  so 
often  the  case  when  in  thought,  digging  his  toe 
into  the  ground,  and  when  further  told  that  it 
was  a  most  rare  occurrence  for  lightning  to  strike 
twice  in  the  same  place  or  in  the  immediate 
vicinity  during  a  single  storm,  he  remarked 
dryly,  "It  don't  gen'ly  have  to;  one  hittin'  seems 
to  be  'bout  enough  for  mos'  things.  But  didn't 
she  sizzle?  Jiminy  crickets!  it  mos'  split  my 
ears. 

It  was  fortunate  the  tent  was  standing  on  a 
knoll,  as  the  water  was  lying  all  about  in  great 
pools  where  it  had  ran  down  from  the  hillside,  and 
as  soon  as  the  wind  subsided  and  they  could  look 
out  from  the  tent  it  could  be  seen  that  the  river 
was  rising  rapidly,  as  the  torrents  of  water  soon 
reached  it  from  the  long  line  of  hills.  "It  looks  as 
if  fishing  was  not  to  be  thought  of  for  this  evening," 
said   Mr.   WoodhuU.      "There   will   be   a   regular 

169 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

flood    if  this    rain    keeps    up    for   any   length    of 
time." 

It  was  more  than  an  hour  before  it  stopped 
sufficiently  for  them  to  venture  out  from  the  tent, 
which  was  dry  and  comfortable,  thanks  to  their 
foresight  in  pitching  it  on  high  ground  and  also 
to  the  excellent  waterproofing  of  the  tent  itself. 
The  river  had  indeed  risen  and  now  had  assumed 
the  proportions  of  a  regular  torrent  swirling  along, 
carrying  large  pieces  of  driftwood  and  other 
woodland  debris  down  in  its  muddy  volume.  As 
they  looked  downstream  they  could  see  it  was 
much  abov^e  its  banks  and  had  already  spread 
over  the  meadows.  Their  boat  was  tossing  on 
the  current  and  was  drawn  up  to  higher  ground 
and  made  secure. 

"This  should  give  us  some  snipe  shooting," 
said  Mr.  Adams.  "While  they  prefer  sand  bars 
to  run  along  in  search  of  food,  they  will  now  be 
flying  along  the  edge  of  the  waters  searching  for 
feeding  places  and  can  be  plainly  seen  while  in 
the  air."  They  accordingly  launched  out  in  their 
boat  about  four  o'clock  and  went  down  rapidly 
on  the  swollen  stream  and  were  soon  in  the  bay, 
which  was  somewhat  discolored  by  the  influx  of 
the  muddy  waters  from  the  hills. 

"There  goes  another  one  of  them  'stilt  birds,'  " 
said  the  lad,  pointing  across  the  bay  to  where  a 
blue  heron  was  winging  its  way  inland.  "Seems 
'ough  they  might  fold  their  legs  up  some  way 
when  they  fly." 

170 


A  STORM  ON  THE  RIVER 

Several  flights  of  the  small  ring-neck  snipe  were 
seen.  "They  are  fine  eating,"  said  Mr.  Adams, 
"but  we  are  after  larger  game." 

After  a  short  time  the  plaintive  whistling  of  the 
larger  birds  was  heard  and  several  of  them  circled 
near  where  their  boat  was  lying  in  a  sheltered 
cove.  Mr.  Adams  left  the  boat  and  crawled 
away  among  some  tall  rushes  at  the  edge  of  the 
water  and  awaited  the  birds'  return,  which  was 
sure  to  be  soon.  x'\s  they  came  circling  by  again 
he  fired  twice  and  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing 
one  bird  drop.  Matt  was  watching  closely  and 
noting  every  move  made  by  the  gunner.  It  was 
the  first  time  he  had  ever  seen  wing  shooting 
done,  and  he  marked  the  bird  closely  as  it  at- 
tempted to  balance  itself  in  the  air,  only  to  fail, 
as  one  wing  was  broken.  It  came  to  the  ground 
in  broken  circles  and  landed  heavily,  falling  be- 
tween Mr.  Adams  and  himself.  He  was  at  the 
spot  almost  as  soon  as  the  bird  dropped  and  was 
examining  it  soberly  as  Mr.  Adams  approached. 
A  great  globule  of  blood  welled  up  from  the  side 
of  the  head,  showing  that  at  least  one  shot  had 
entered  there  as  well  as  at  the  wing.  It  was  fast 
expiring,  and  with  a  shiver  of  the  body  and  a 
slight  fluttering  of  the  sound  wing  it  was  gone. 
"They  are  fine  birds,"  said  the  older  party,  "and 
I  should  have  brought  down  more;  if  I  had  been 
in  better  shooting  form  it  would  have  been  dif- 
ferent. They  fly  rapidly,  and  when  taking  a  side 
shot,  to  be  sure  of  result,  at  least  two  feet  lead 

171 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

must  be  taken;  that  is,  you  should  hold  your  gun 
that  much  ahead  of  the  bird  you  seek  to  kill. 
Sometimes  much  more  than  that  distance  is  nec- 
essary; it  is  all  according  to  the  distance  they  are 
from  you  and  the  speed  they  are  making." 

This  little  talk  had  been  for  Matt's  benefit  for 
future  use,  and  it  was  planted  away  in  his  store- 
house of  memory.  Three  more  of  the  same  kind 
of  birds  were  killed,  and  then  the  party  returned 
to  their  camp.  As  they  entered  the  river  the 
current  was  still  running  so  strongly  that  they 
found  it  necessary  for  each  man  to  take  an  oar, 
and  even  then  it  was  hard  work  to  make  much 
progress. 

As  they  reached  the  camp  they  found  the 
water  had  subsided  so  the  ground  all  about  was 
drained  and  the  river  much  below  the  bank's  edge. 
"After  such  storms,"  said  Mr.  Adams,  "the 
waters  run  off  quickly,  and  it  is  the  quick  rush  of 
the  water  from  the  hills  which  causes  the  streams 
to  rise  so  rapidly.  It  would  be  useless  to  try 
fishing  to-day,  as  there  is  too  much  water  running 
down." 

For  supper  they  had  the  birds,  the  boy  com- 
menting on  their  long  legs  and  bills.  "Seems 
'ough  salt  water  builds  stilts  on  all  the  birds,"  he 
said,  as  they  were  dressing  them.  "I  don't  see 
why  they  need  to  run  faster'n  other  birds." 

"'['heir  legs  are  useful  in  wading,"  said  Mr. 
Woodhull.  "They  get  much  of  their  food  that 
way.      When    the   birds   were   dressed    they   were 

172 


A  STORM  ON  THE  RIVER 

placed  in  boiling  water  with  a  small  portion  of 
onion  and  allowed  to  remain  a  few  minutes. 
This  method,  it  was  explained,  besides  making 
the  birds  more  tender,  always  destroys  the  peculiar 
sedgy  taste  natural  to  most  salt-water  fowl  and 
makes  them  more  palatable.  As  Mr.  x'\dams  had 
said,  they  were  found  to  be  delicious  eating,  and 
besides  they  helped  out  on  their  larder  and  were 
distinctly  novel  to  Mr.  Woodhull  and  Matt. 

"It's  more  than  likely  we  will  have  muddy 
water  here  for  at  least  another  day,"  said  Mr. 
Adams,  as  the  last  of  the  meal  was  eaten.  "Sup- 
pose we  make  an  excursion  to  the  beach  front  to- 
morrow? We  can  start  early  and  come  back  in 
the  afternoon,  and  so  not  have  the  heat  of  the 
day  for  our  rowing.  Do  you  feel  equal  to  the 
task.?"  he  asked  Mr.  Woodhull. 

"I  am  ready  for  anything,"  was  the  reply.  "I 
just  feel  prime,  but — "  and  here  he  winked  slyly 
at  Mr.  Adams,  "I  don't  think  Matt  would  care 
for  the  trip." 

"Well,"  said  the  lad,  without  looking  up  from 
the  work  of  putting  a  new  Hne  on  his  fish  pole, 
"I  found  two  places  where  the  hne  was  sort  o' 
chafed.  I  guess  when  I  got  that  wallopin'  strike, 
like  I'll  never  get  again,  he  took  the  line  a-hummin' 
'round  the  boat  first  scoot,  I  guess  when  you  get 
ready  to  start  to  the  beach  the'll  be  company 
lookin'  like  me  close  by.  I've  never  been  to  the 
sea  an'  would  like  to  go  mighty  well." 

The  following  day  was  spent  on  the  beach,  to 

173 


FISHING   WITH   A   BOY 

the  pleasure  of  all  and  to  the  positive  delight  of 
the  boy.  He  had  never  beheld  the  ocean,  and  his 
eyes  were  as  restless  as  the  waves,  taking  in  every 
detail.  And  his  questions  were  without  end.  The 
sailing  ships  which  passed  along  far  out  to  sea 
were  a  delight  to  him,  as  he  had  never  before  seen 
them,  and  the  questions  in  relation  to  how  they 
were  made  to  sail  in  the  different  directions  were 
many  and  amusing.  Mr.  Adams,  as  well  as  Mr. 
Woodhull,  were  busy  giving  information  aU  day 
long. 

As  they  were  returning  to  their  camp  the  boy 
espied  an  osprey  sailing  over  the  waters  of  the 
bay  in  search  of  a  meal.  This  was  a  bird  he  had 
never  seen,  and  he  was  asking  about  it  when  it 
poised  and  its  wings  made  a  half  circle  in  the  air 
and  it  then  went  down  into  the  water  with  a  long, 
slanting  dive,  sending  the  spray  high  into  the  air. 
The  boy  rose  from  his  seat  in  perfect  wonder, 
dropping  the  oar  he  had  been  pulling  as  he  did 
so,  and  then  under  his  breath  exclaimed:  "Gosh! 
What  in  all  creation  made  him  go  down  like  that.'' 
I  bet  he  drowns."  He  was  still  in  a  state  of  won- 
derment when  the  bird  came  to  the  surface, 
struggling  with  a  large  fish  vyhich  it  held  in  its 
talons,  and  after  a  vigorous  shaking  to  free  its 
feathers  from  water  it  sailed  off  to  an  adjacent 
tree,  where  a  great  nest  of  sticks  and  grass  had 
been  built.  This  was  a  profound  revelation  to  the 
lad,  who  had  never  before  seen  a  fish  hawk  in 
action,   and   he  was   all   excitement.     "Gee!"   he 

174 


^IML:.*" 


A  STORM  ON  THE  RIVER 

said;  'T  thought  he  was  crazy.  I  never  knowed 
that  birds  went  down  under  the  water  for  fish. 
I've  seen  kingfishers  pick  up  minnies  out  'en  the 
brooks,  but  they  only  dip  down  where  the  water 
ain't  deep  an'  jest  pick  'em  up.  Seems  the's 
sumthin'  new  on  salt  water  mos'  all  the  time." 

The  boy  and  Mr.  Woodhull  were  at  the  oars, 
and  the  boy  rowed  on  in  thoughtful  silence  for 
several  minutes,  when  he  suddenly  broke  out 
with:  "I  was  jest  wishin'  how  I  might  alius  live 
in  the  woods  an'  'long  the  water  'mongst  the  fish 
an'  birds.  They  don't  seem  to  have  no  trouble 
gittin'  'long  'cept  crows  an'  hawks  are  alius 
quarrelin'  when  they  meet,  but  mos'  things  seem 
to  go  'long  an'  mind'n  their  own  bisnus." 

"There  is  not  an  animal,  bird,  or  fish  which 
does  not  have  its  natural  and  mortal  enemy," 
said  Mr.  Adams,  "and  man  is  but  little  better 
ofl^  and  no  less  quarrelsome.  Why,  even  you  have 
Ned  Southard  to  torment  you." 

"I  know  it,"  said  the  lad,  "an'  one  o'  these  days 
he'll  git  good  an'  plenty  what's  comin'  to  him. 
I  made  him  have  his  head  shaved  once  on  'count 
o'  puttin'  glue  in  his  hair,  an'  that's  on'y  part  o' 
his  comin'  troubles  'les  he  lets  me  alone." 


175 


CHAPTER  XIV 

Unexpected  Joys 

The  water  in  the  river  had  subsided  greatly 
during  the  day  and  was  running  quite  clear. 
They  made  and  ate  a  hearty  supper,  and  Mr. 
Adams,  despite  their  tired  condition,  asked  the 
two  to  row  him  down  the  river,  as  he  wished  to 
try  out  his  white  feather  fly.  x'\s  before  he  whipped 
every  point  along  the  banks  which  gave  promise 
of  a  rise,  but  nothing  came  of  his  endeavors 
until  they  came  to  the  pool  where  the  striped  bass 
had  been  taken.  As  the  fly  settled  on  the  water 
well  over  to  the  left  bank  there  was  a  swirl  and 
a  splash  and  the  f^y  disappeared.  With  a  quick 
wrist  motion  Mr.  Adams  set  the  hook,  saying 
quietly  as  he  did  so,  "I've  got  him."  The  rod 
took  a  sharp  bend  under  the  pressure  of  the 
hooked  fish.  It  was  no  such  strife,  however,  as 
the  bass  had  put  up.  It  ran  twice  across  the  pool 
with  a  darting  motion,  then  settled  down  to  rather 
mild  up-  and  down-stream  runs.  All  hands  were 
eager  to  see  the  fish,  but  Mr.  Adams  handled  it 
with  extreme  care  and  hnallv  brought  it  to  the 
surface,  when  Matt,  who  had  the  net,  landed  it, 
under  Mr.  Woodhull's  instructions.  It  proved  to 
be  a  bright,  silvery  fish  with  dark-green  back  and 
of   about  two  pounds  weight,  and  looked  much 

170 


UNEXPECTED  JOYS 

like  an  overgrown  herring.  "It  is  just  what  I  was 
trying  for,"  said  Mr.  Adams.  "I  have  known  for 
a  long  time  that  they  could  be  taken  on  a  white 
fly  at  this  time  of  the  day.  They  are  known  as 
'shadine,'  and  are  really  a  species  of  shad,  but 
do  not  make  a  table  delicacy,  as  they  are  very 
bony  and  of  poor  flavor." 

It  was  not  taken  from  the  net,  but  the  hook 
was  carefully  removed  and  when  they  had  viewed 
it  to  their  liking  the  net  was  lowered  into  the 
water,  when  it  quickly  swam  away.  'T  was  in- 
terested in  the  matter  of  taking  one  on  the  fly 
more  than  in  the  fish  itself,"  said  Mr.  Adams, 
"although,  if  we  had  no  better  fish  near  at  hand 
we  would  have  kept  it."  Several  more  casts  were 
made  and  one  more  rise  secured,  but  the  fish 
missed,  showing,  however,  a  brightly  gleaming 
side  as  it  turned  to  take  the  fly,  and  this  time 
much  nearer  the  boat.  "There  is  no  need  of  taking 
more,"  said  Mr.  Adams,  "although  good  fish 
would  be  welcome,  as  well  as  some  more  crabs,  but 
we  know  where  they  are,  don't  we,  boy?"  He 
playfully  poked  his  thumb  into  Matt's  ticklish 
ribs.  "Let's  go  to  camp  while  it  is  hght  enough 
to  see  to  put  the  mosquito  netting  in  the  crab 
net,  so  we  can  get  some  shrimps  to-morrow,  as 
well  as  some  other  bait  if  we  need  it." 

"What's  shrimps?"  asked  the  boy.  "I  ain't 
seen  none  down  here  since  we  come,  as  I  knows 
of." 

"We'll  show  you  some  to-morrow,  I  guess,  and 
12  177 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

how  to  use  them  as  well,"  said  Mr.  Adams.  The 
fine-meshed  netting  was  soon  fitted  on  the  crab 
net  and  all  made  ready  for  the  excursion  on  the 
coming  day,  which,  as  on  the  former  occasion, 
proved  productive  of  plenty  of  crabs,  both  for 
eating  and  for  bait.  When  it  came  to  searching 
out  shrimps,  which  Mr.  Adams  proceeded  to  do 
around  some  old  sunken  timbers  in  shallow  water, 
the  boy  was  all  attention,  as  was  his  custom  when 
the  unusual  or  any,  to  him,  new  idea  was  being 
worked  out.  When  the  net  was  raised  from  the 
water  and  he  saw  the  shrimps  skipping  about  in 
it  his  first  remark  was:  "Gee,  lookit  the  water 
grasshoppers!    What  are  they  good  for.''" 

"They  make  one  of  the  best  of  all  baits,"  said 
Mr.  Adams.  "Many  kinds  of  fish  can  be  taken 
on  them,  and  at  times  they  will  take  no  other 
bait.  The  best  way  to  keep  them  alive  is  to  put 
them  in  dry  and  very  fine  sawdust,  but  we  will 
be  compelled  to  do  without  that  and  use  a  box." 

Matt  studied  them  closely  and  made  some  of 
his  usual  droll  remarks  in  relation  to  them.  To 
him  it  was  a  real  nature  study,  and  he  was  fast 
learning  that  but  few  things  were  of  no  utility, 
and  his  simple  ideas  and  ways  of  life  were  fast  re- 
ceiving the  touch  and  breadth  of  the  great  world 
to  which  he  had  lived  a  stranger. 

When  enough  shrimp  was  secured  they  returned 
to  the  camp  and,  getting  their  tackle  ready,  Mr. 
Adams  advised  giving  the  fish  a  trial,  as  the 
weather  was  dull  and  there  was  a  slight  fog  hang- 

178 


UNEXPECTED  JOYS 

ing  over  the  water.  Dinner  was  made  on  the  last 
of  Aunt  Mary's  ham,  much  to  the  regret  of  all, 
as  it  had  proved  a  most  acceptable  addition  to 
their  stock  of  provisions. 

"We  had  better  use  rather  large  hooks  while 
the  tide  is  fairly  high,"  suggested  Mr.  Adams. 
"We  can  change  to  smaller  ones  if  necessary." 
At  the  pool  where  they  had  formerly  fished  they 
used  shrimps  for  bait  as  well  as  the  shedder  crabs. 
On  the  former  there  was  ceaseless  nibbling  of 
small  fish,  and  Matt  suggested  using  small  hooks. 
"The's  no  sense  in  wastin'  time  an'  bait  too  an' 
gittin'  nothin',"  he  said.  While  he  was  talking 
of  changing  the  hooks  Mr.  i\dams  told  him  to 
string  his  hook  full  of  the  shrimps,  as  the  fish 
might  as  well  eat  them  up.  The  lad  did  as  sug- 
gested and  lowered  his  hook  to  the  bottom,  when 
soon  there  was  excitement  in  plenty.  The  top  of 
his  pole  went  under  the  water  with  a  rush  and 
his  Hne  went  hissing  through  the  water.  Mr. 
Adams  seized  the  anchor  rope  and  ran  the  boat 
upstream  the  full  length  of  the  rope,  thus  easing 
the  strain  on  the  lad's  Hne;  then,  as  the  fish  went 
downstream  he  eased  away,  allowing  the  boat  to 
drift  back.  Meanwhile  he  was  coaching  the  boy, 
who  was  giving  the  fish  as  full  play  as  possible 
by  easing  away  on  the  pole  and  leaning  as  far  out 
of  the  boat  as  he  could. 

The  fish  soon  began  swimming  in  circles,  much 
to  Mr.  Adams'  dehght,  whose  experience  told  him 
that  it  was  evidence  of  waning  powers,  and  he 

179 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

quietly  encouraged  the  lad  to  patience  and  cau- 
tion. Matt's  home-made  and  very  serviceable 
landing  net  was  handy,  and  as  the  fish  came  once 
more  by  the  boat  and  near  the  surface  the  net 
was  deftly  slid  under  it  and  lifted  into  the  boat 
by  Mr.  Adams.  It  proved  to  be  a  striped  bass  of 
about  six  pounds  weight. 

The  joy  of  the  lad  knew  no  bounds.  He  was 
hilarious  with  pride  over  his  conquest,  and  he 
i^loated  over  it  like  some  victor  might  who  had 
taken  a  prize.  It  was  the  largest  fish  he  had 
ever  taken  and  the  first  one  of  importance  from 
the  salt  water.  "This,"  said  Mr.  Adams,  "is 
conclusive  evidence  in  support  of  what  I  have  so 
jiiany  times  said:  If  anglers  would  confine  their 
efi^orts  more  to  the  head  waters  of  our  bays  and 
rivers  they  would  be  well  repaid  for  their  en- 
deavors." Two  good-sized  weakfish  were  added 
to  their  catch  during  the  afternoon,  both  of  them 
on  the  shrimp  bait,  and  the  boy  was  enamored  of 
the  sport  as  well  as  the  men,  who  greatly  enjoyed 
the  boy's  enthusiasm  over  the  splendid  colors 
and  form  of  the  weakfish.  "They're  mos'  zactly 
like  a  trout,"  he  said,  as  he  turned  them  over  and 
examined  them  critically.  "They  got  square  tails 
an'  are  pink  all  over  'em  an'  spots.  I  wonder  if 
they  ain't  some  kind'a  trout?" 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Adams,  "the  same  question 
was  asked  more  than  one  hundred  years  ago  and 
by  a  head  much  older  and  wiser  than  yours,  and 
it  has  been  asked  over  and  over  ever  since  by 

180 


UNEXPECTED  JOYS 

many,  but  the  answer  seems  as  far  away  as  ever," 
and  the  man  contemplated  with  affection  the  boy 
who  was  unconsciously  an  enthusiastic  naturalist. 
Then,  turning  to  his  bass,  the  lad  said:  "If  Aunt 
Mary  could  on'y  see  this  fish  she'd  be  near  loony, 
but  I  bet  she'd  try  to  tell  herself  she  was  the  reason 
I  got  him.     She's  funny  that  way,  but  good." 

He  again  went  to  the  store  before  dark  and 
carried  letters  from  each  ot  them  to  the  home 
folks,  one  of  which  went  to  the  hired  man,  telling 
him  what  day  to  meet  them  at  the  boat  landing. 

As  he  returned  to  camp  the  odor  of  broiling 
fish  came  to  his  nostrils  while  some  distance  away, 
and  as  he  entered  the  camp  he  remarked:  I  bet 
you  ain't  got  enough  for  on'y  me."  But  the  plate 
of  soft  crabs,  in  addition  to  the  fish,  came  as  a 
surprise  to  him,  and  the  two  men  enjoyed  watch- 
ing the  lad's  eager  disposition  of  the  appetizing 
sea  food.  "Seems  'ough  salt  water's  got  the  best 
o'  all  the  world  for  things  what's  good,"  he  went 
on  as  the  meal  progressed.  "Is  it  as  good  as  here 
wherever  the's  salt  water?"  he  asked.  He  was 
told  that  there  was  vast  difference  in  fish  as  well 
as  birds  in  and  around  different  waters,  and  that 
there  were  no  crabs  such  as  he  was  eating  in  the 
cold  climate,  although  there  were  many  fine  fish 
in  the  northern  seas,  some  as  fine  as  in  the  warmer 
waters. 

On  the  day  upon  which  packing  up  for  home 
was  being  done  the  boy's  actions  were  pathetic. 
He   wandered   many    times    to    the    little   river's 

i8i 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

bank  and  gazed  down  toward  the  bay  where  he 
had  had  so  many  pleasant  surprises  in  the  brief 
week  they  had  spent  in  the  camp.  Crabs,  shrimps, 
and  many  of  the  salt-water  fishes  had  become 
familiar  to  him.  He  had  inhaled  the  glorious  air 
of  the  salt  water  marshes,  and  his  very  soul  was 
rich  with  the  experience  and  joy  of  it  all.  Mr. 
Woodhull's  condition  was  inspiring.  He  was  no 
longer  the  anaemic  man  we  first  met.  There  was 
bloom  on  his  cheek  and  vigor  in  his  voice,  while 
rugged  action  played  through  his  muscles.  As  to 
Mr.  Adams,  he  was  sincerely  delighted  with  it  all. 
He  had  as  companions  the  quiet  man,  who  was  so 
rapidly  being  rejuvenated,  and  the  boy — the 
whimsical,  golden-hearted  Matt,  who  had  all  un- 
consciously woven  himself  into  the  heart  of  the 
man  of  wealth.  What  though  there  were  freckles 
on  nose  and  cheek  and  his  cap  was  to  be  seen  on 
his  head  hind  side  in  front  more  often  than  in  its 
proper  place,  he  no  longer  saw  such  things;  he 
looked  beyond  and  down  into  the  depth  of  his 
honest  gray  eyes  and  read  there  the  glow  of  the 
true  nature  lover  who  would  rather  watch  a  bird 
build  its  nest  or  delve  into  the  mysteries  of  a 
spawning  fish  than  see  any  display  of  wealth  and 
power.  While  the  latter  might  for  the  moment 
startle  and  surprise  him,  still  his  love  was  not  with  it, 
and  he  knew  from  his  experience  in  life  that  such 
as  love  the  call  of  the  wild  are  to  be  trusted  in 
the  affairs  of  men. 
As  the  hour  for  departure  arrived  the  lad 
182 


UNEXPECTED  JOYS 

wandered  down  to  the  bank  near  the  pool  where 
he  had  caught  the  bass  and  weakfish,  and  he  stood 
drinking  in  the  fascination  of  the  surrounding 
scenery  as  though  loath  to  leave  its  charm,  won- 
dering in  his  boyish  mind  if  he  would  ever  again 
visit  the  spot.  Ah,  Matt,  you  were  not  the  first 
of  your  kind,  neither  will  you  be  the  last  to  be  in 
such  a  mood.  Little  did  you  know  that  moment 
that  in  future  years  every  foot  of  the  surrounding 
country  would  be  as  familiar  to  you  as  your  own 
dooryard,  and  that  your  hounds  would  nose  out 
game  to  fall  to  your  gun  throughout  the  adjacent 
swamps,  while  the  lairs  of  fur-bearing  animals 
would  be  as  familiar  to  you  as  to  their  owners. 

The  writer  knows  all  these  things,  for  he  trailed 
behind  you  while  yet  too  young  to  have  a  gun  and 
saw  you  pick  at  leisure  the  passenger  pigeons  from 
the  tops  of  the  very  tall  pinoaks  in  the  swamps, 
and  with  the  gun  which  your  boyhood  friend, 
Mr.  Adams,  sent  as  a  Christmas  present  when 
you  became  old  enough   to  care  for  it  properly. 

The  pool  and  stretches  of  bay  over  which  your 
eyes  roam  and  to  which  you  so  lately  came  a 
stranger  and  have  enjoyed  the  dehghts  of  its 
denizens  both  on  the  hook  and  at  the  table,  all 
these  in  future  years  are  to  add  to  your  pleasures, 
for  the  man  becomes  the  offspring  of  the  boy. 

Pulling  against  the  stream,  they  made  slower 
progress  than  on  their  way  down,  and  it  was  past 
noon  when  they  arrived  at  the  boat  owner's 
home.     Their  team  was  waiting  for  them,  and  it 

183 


FISHING  WITH  A   ROY 

was  not  long  before  their  equipment  was  loaded 
and  they  were  headed  for  home.  Matt,  as  when 
coming  down,  was  perched  on  top  of  the  duffle 
and  with  his  quick  eye  taking  every  moving  ob- 
ject under  observation  and  most  of  the  time 
whistling  quietly.  As  they  passed  the  spot  where 
they  had  encountered  Ned  Southard,  Matt  gave 
one  of  his  peculiar  cat-like  calls  to  attract  atten- 
tion and  then  queried:  "Wonder  if  his  breeches'd 
stand  'nother  dustin'  'thout  cuttin'  through? 
Gosh,  but  that  ol'  whip  set  up  close!"  Then 
suddenly  changing  his  mood,  he  said,  "Hope 
Aunt  Mary's  well."  That,  to  him,  very  important 
personage  was  at  the  gate  as  they  drove  up. 
Matt  jumped  to  the  ground  and,  kissing  her 
warmly,  said,  "Gee,  that  ham  o'  yourn  was  great!" 
Aunt  Mary,  as  was  easy  to  see,  was  greatly  pleased 
to  see  that  all  was  well  with  them,  but  she  could 
not  refrain  trom  her  custom  of  rebuke,  and  said 
rather  sharply:  "Matt  Buckley,  ain't  you  ever 
goin'  to  get  over  talkin'  about  what  you've  had 
to  eat  or  goin'  to  have?" 

As  the  boy  piled  his  traps  inside  the  gate  he 
kept  up  a  run  of  talk  until  the  aunt,  putting  her 
hand  squarely  over  his  mouth,  said,  "Now  let 
somebody  talk  that  can  say  somethin',"  and  turn- 
ing to  the  men,  asked,  "How's  he  behaved?" 

"Don't  worry  about  Matt,"  said  Mr.  Adams  in 
a  very  kind  manner.  "He'll  do  among  men  any 
time."  As  they  startetl  away  Matt  said:  "I'm 
goin'  for  frogs  to-morrow;  got  to  make  up  for  the 


UNEXPECTED  JOYS 

time  I  been  away."  Mr.  Woodhull  said,  "We'll 
be  out  for  catties  before  the  week  is  done."  And 
so  they  drove  away. 

Boy-like,  Matt  tried  to  tell  his  aunt  all  at  one 
time  of  the  many  new  fine  things  he  had  seen 
and  done  while  away,  and  when  it  came  to  the 
striped  bass  there  was  no  way  in  which  he  could 
express  to  his  satisfaction  his  view  of  it,  so  he 
wound  up  with:  "He  was  jest  a  wallopin'  han'som' 
fish,  an'  he  eat  better'n  chicken  fried."  He  was 
in  the  woodshed  putting  away  his  beloved  poles 
and  cherished  landing  net,  now  to  be  doubly 
precious  to  him,  with  their  salt-water  memories, 
when  he  heard  his  aunt  calling  to  him  to  come  to 
the  house  at  once.  She  was  standing  in  the  middle 
of  the  kitchen,  an  empty  jam  jar  in  one  hand  and 
a  napkin  in  the  other,  to  which  was  pinned  some- 
thing strongly  resembling  money.  The  jar  had 
been  washed  clean  and  the  napkin  put  in  it  so  it 
could  not  get  lost,  and  pinned  to  the  three  five- 
dollar  bills  was  the  following  note: 

"My  Dear  Mrs.  Buckley: 

"Permit  me  to  hand  you  this  small  sum  of 
money  in  consideration  of  the  time  I  have  de- 
prived you  of  your  boy.  Cherish  him  and 
have  no  fears,  for  he  will  grow  up  to  be  a 
source  of  maintenance  as  well  as  comfort  to 
you.  He  has  given  me  a  week  of  solid  comfort 
and  delight.  Sincerely  yours, 

"Mr.  Adams." 
185 


FISHING  WITH  A  BOY 

There  was  just  a  suspicion  of  a  tear  in  the  eyes 
of  Aunt  Mary  as  she  put  her  arm  over  the  lad's 
shoulder,  and  as  they  walked  to  the  door  to- 
gether she  said,  "Most  everybody  says  good 
things  about  you.  Matt,  but — "  and  the  boy 
broke  in  with  his  familiar  giggle,  "I'll  bet  it  is 
owin'  to  your  bringin'  of  me  up,  Gosh!" 

*' Through  hillside  slopes  and  meadows  green 
And  on  to  shaded  glen. 
The  rivers  run  to  meet  the  tides 
As  run  the  ajffairs  of  men.^' 


i86 


CHAPTER  XV 

Reflections  and  Incidents 

For  several  days  after  the  return  of  the  fishing 
party  from  the  head  waters  of  the  river  and  bay 
where  Matt  had  had  his  first  experience  with 
salt-water  fish,  the  delighted  youth  was  ever  re- 
peating to  anyone  who  would  listen  his  wonderful 
tale  of  it  all.  Safe  to  say  that  none  of  his  speci- 
mens were  underestimated  as  to  size  or  fighting 
ability,  nor  were  their  gastronomic  qualities  over- 
looked in  the  telling,  particularly  the  soft  crabs. 
"I  wonder  who  dared  to  eat  the  first  one,"  he 
commented.  "I'm  glad  someone  did,  an'  when 
Mr.  x-^dams  fries  'em,  u-u-u-m!"  One  matter  in 
particular  he  dwelt  on  and  talked  it  over  day  by 
day  and  apparently  could  not  get  settled  in  his 
mind,  and  that  was  the  episode  of  the  "empty 
bottle"  which  traveled  against  the  current  of  the 
river.  True,  he  had  witnessed  it  and  Mr.  Adams 
had  explained  to  him  how  tides  always  work 
first  at  the  bottom,  yet,  as  he  argued,  "It's  all 
solid  water,  clean  from  top  to  bottom,  an'  how 
one  part  goes  one  way  an'  the  rest  t'other  gets 
me. 

One  day  Matt  was  busy  in  the  house  with  some 
of  his  belongings  and  had  them  pretty  well 
strewn  about  the  floor,  while  his  tongue  ran  on  in 

187 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

ceaseless  chatter  about  what  to  him  had  been 
such  marvelous  things.  It  was  raining  hard  out- 
side and  Aunt  Mary,  as  she  busied  herself  about 
the  kitchen,  did  not  hesitate  to  remove  with  no 
gentle  touch  of  her  foot  such  things  as  were,  or 
what  she  fancied  might  be,  in  her  way.  "Good 
land,  Matt!"  she  at  last  broke  out,  "what  on 
earth  do  you  want  with  all  this  trash  in  the  house .^ 
Makes  the  place  look  'bout  like  a  hog  pen."  And 
she  gave  a  vigorous  shove  to  a  small  box  the  lad 
had  just  finished  nailing  to  his  apparent  satisfac- 
tion. "The  woodshed's  good  enough  for  such 
work,  and  I  don't  see  why  you  didn't  stay  there." 
"Nobody  to  talk  to  out  there,"  returned  the 
boy;  "  'sides,  I  sort-a  like  to  have  folks  kick 
things  'round  some,  'nen  if  they  don't  break  I 
know  they're  good  an'  strong."  For  a  moment 
Aunt  Mary  glared  at  Matt  in  a  threatening  man- 
ner, but  restraining  herself  from  more  active 
measures  she  went  over  to  a  shelf  on  which  re- 
posed sundry  small  articles  of  kitchen  utility, 
among  which  were  the  salt  and  pepper  shakers 
which  had  been  used  by  the  trio  on  their  fishing 
excursion  and  had  been  unpacked  by  the  old  lady 
and  placed  on  the  shelf,  where  they  had  since 
reposed.  Picking  up  the  one  which  contained  the 
pepper  she  turned  it  over  and  gave  it  a  vigorous 
shake  over  the  palm  of  her  hand  to  learn  if  it 
were  empty.  Getting  no  results,  she  unscrewed 
the  top  and  stood  looking  intently  at  the  inside 
without  comment   for  several   seconds,    then   she 

i88 


REFLECTIONS 

blurted  out:  "What'd  you  folks  want  to  stuff 
paper  in  the  pepper  box  for?  The's  no  danger  of 
it  leakin'  out  much." 

"Didn't  know  as  anybody  did,"  rejoined  Matt, 
without  looking  up  from  his  work.  "It  let  pepper 
out  good  when  we  used  it."  Aunt  Mary  had  by 
this  time  applied  the  tine  of  a  table  fork  to  the 
offending  paper  in  her  usual  forceful  manner, 
when,  to  her  utter  amazement,  two  five-dollar 
bills  were  impaled  on  the  fork  and  lifted  out. 
Her  back  was  toward  the  boy,  and  she  stood 
contemplating  the  money  for  several  seconds  in  a 
perfect  maze  of  astonishment;  then  she  said  in  a 
quick,  nervous  way:  "Matt,  come  here  and  look 
at  this  paper." 

"I  d'know  nothin'  about  it,"  he  returned.  "If 
somebody  wants  to  cut  a  fool  caper  an'  wad 
paper  in  a  pepper-box,  why,  let  'em.  It's  easy 
pulled  out;  'sides,  it  don't  hurt  nothin'."  And 
without  even  looking  up  he  kept  busily  at  his 
work. 

"This  kind  o'  paper  don't  hurt  nobody  when 
they  get  it,  I  reckon,"  came  back  the  answer, 
"and  if  you  wasn't  so  peart  an'  set  in  your  ways 
you'd  pay  some  attention  when  you're  talked 
to,"  and  she  waved  the  money,  still  on  the  fork, 
before  the  eyes  of  the  now  equally  astonished 
Matt.  He  let  his  knife  and  the  bait-stick  for  a 
box  trap  on  which  he  had  been  working  drop  to 
the  floor  with  a  clatter. 

"I  d'know,"  he  exclaimed  when  he  could  find 
189 


FISHING   ^^'  I  T  H   A   BOY 

words;  "seems  'ough  Mr.  Adams  or  Mr.  Wood- 
hull  must-a  done  it;  I  d'know.  Maybe  they  put 
together  an'  fixed  it  up.  Mr.  Adams  said  he 
would  see  that  I  was  paid  for  my  time  away 
from  froggin',  an'  I  s'pose  he  done  it  this  way; 
I  d'know."  The  lad  was  in  such  bewilderment  of 
surprise  and  delight  over  their  good  fortune  that 
he  scarcely  realized  what  he  was  saying.  Here 
was  twenty-five  dollars,  counting  the  other  dona- 
tion, for  his  time  while  away  on  the  most  delight- 
ful experience  of  his  young  life,  and  it  is  doubtful 
if  he  had  ever  before  seen  a  greater  sum  together 
at  one  time.  But  he  did  not  seem  to  feel  that  the 
m.oney  was  in  any  way  to  be  applied  to  his  per- 
sonal comfort.  It  was  just  "theirs."  Aunt 
Mary  had  it,  and  that  was  entirely  right  and 
proper  in  his  estimation.  "Well,"  observed  that 
lady,  "it's  mighty  welcome,  and  is  a  token  of 
gratitude  from  them  for  what  we've  showed  'em 
about  fish  and  fishin'  around  here,  as  well  as 
some  other  things.  Mos'  folks,  though,  get  about 
all  they  can  of  such  things  without  givin' 
back  much  in  return.  It's  a  nice  present  an'  " — 
"It's  owin'  some  to  your  bringin'  of  me  up,"  ex- 
claimed Matt,  who  never  missed  a  chance  to  take 
a  fling  at  his  aunt  whenever  she  usurped  what  he 
considered  his  rightful  prerogative.  "Gosh!  it's 
a  wonder  the's  a  fish  left  in  the  brooks,  the  way 
you  know  how  to  find  'em.  But,"  he  continued 
in  a  more  conciliatory  tone,  "we  got  the  money, 
an'  he  was  willin'  to  give  it;  mos'  likely  it's  his 

190 


REFLECTIONS 

way  o'  helpin'  them  he  takes  to."  Then,  giving 
his  mouth  that  most  pecuHar  twist  for  which  he 
was  famous,  he  said,  "The's  no  use  settin'  of  a 
widder's  cap  for  him,  he's  married." 

This  was  too  much.  "Matt  Buckley!"  fairly 
hissed  the  old  lady,  "I  ain't  settin'  no  caps, 
widders  or  any  kind,  an'  if  I  hear  any  more  fool 
talk  like  that  we'll  have  a  ruction  that  your  hide 
won't  relish." 

Mart's  thrust  had  accompHshed  its  mission  of 
peeving  the  aunt,  and  gathering  up  his  trappings 
he  went  out.  The  peak  of  his  cap  was  over  one 
ear,  and  he  began  whistling  what  at  that  period 
was  a  most  popular  air,  "Up  in  a  Balloon,  Boys." 
Aunt  Mary  was  quick  to  gather  the  connection, 
and  seizing  the  near-by  broom  made  a  rush  for 
the  lad  as  he  passed  through  the  door,  but  the 
nimble-footed  ^Iatt  was  well  out  of  reach  as  the 
broom  came  around  with  a  swish  and  landed 
against  one  of  the  porch  posts. 

The  rain  had  nearly  ceased  falling,  and  the  lad 
was  busy  with  his  affairs  in  the  woodshed.  He 
had  not  gone  back  for  the  remainder  of  his  trap- 
pings, which  he  could  not  carry  on  his  first  trip 
for  obvious  reasons.  While  he  knew  that  his 
aunt's  anger  was  not  really  deep,  still  to  maintain 
her  authority  without  semblance  of  weakening, 
she  might  give  him  what  he  called  a  "clip"  while 
he  was  off  his  guard,  and  so  he  remained  outside. 

After  possibly  an  hour  had  passed  he  heard  her 
calling  him  from  the  porch,  and  his  usual  "Be 

191 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

there  in  a  minute"  was  the  response.  Then  he 
began  wondering  what  the  call  could  be  for. 
"It's  the  store,  I  guess,"  he  reasoned,  and,  laying 
down  his  work,  proceeded  to  the  house,  where,  to 
his  surprise,  was  seated  the  elder  Southard. 
"Matt,"  began  his  aunt,  "I  sent  for  Mr.  Southard 
to  come  over  and  have  a  talk  about  you  and  Ned. 
The's  no  sense  o'  two  boys  what's  neighbors  bein' 
always  in  a  fight." 

"Course  the's  no  sense  to  it,"  broke  in  Matt 
quickly,  "an'  if  he'd  on'y  le'  me  alone  the'd  be 
no  ructions;  'sides,  he's  bigger'n  me  an'  stronger, 
an'  knows  I  can't  give  him  the  wallopin'  that's 
fittin'  him.  He's  alius  pickin'  on  me,  not  carin' 
whether  he  kills  me  or  no.  I  might-a  drowned 
when  he  soused  me  in  the  creek  that  night;  'sides, 
it's  full  o'  snags  that  my  head  might-a  landed  on." 

"You're  not  sure  it  was  Ned  what  throwed  you 
in,"  rejoined  Mr.  Southard.  "I  have  talked  with 
him,  and  he  denies  it." 

"Course  he'd  deny  it,"  interjected  Matt.  "He's 
too  meachin'  mean  to  own  up  to  what  he's  ever 
done;  'sides,  I  ketched  him  lyin'  about  it  in  the 
wheelwright's  shop,  an'  I  soused  hot  glue  in  his 
hair  good  an'  plenty,"  and  Matt  grinned  at  the 
remembrance.  "Lots  o'  times  he's  hit  me  an' 
hurt  me  bad,  but  I  never  squealed  much,  but  lay 
awake  an'  got  'bout  even  some  way,  an'  I  alius 
will  'less  he  kills  me  first.  Mr,  Adams  says  I 
can  have  the  law  on  him  for  what  he's  a'ready 
done,  i)ut  I  can  do  my  own  settlin',"  and  rising 


REFLECTIONS 

from  his  chair,  he  walked  over  to  where  Mr. 
Southard  sat  and  with  a  spirit  he  seldom  exhibited 
and  despite  Aunt  Mary's  endeavors  to  check  him, 
continued:  "Ned's  picked  on  me  plenty  an' 
more'n  I'd  ever  stan'  for  again.  If  he's  a  mind  to 
quit  an'  call  things  square  I  won't  bother  him  no 
more;  but  'less  he  does  I'll  cowhide  him  till  both 
my  arms  ache,  an'  I  know  how  I'll  do  it,  too.  I 
got  frien's  a-plenty,"  and  despite  Aunt  Mary's 
injunctions  to  "sit  down  an'  keep  quiet,"  he 
turned  on  his  heel  and  walked  out  of  the  house, 
closing  the  door  in  no  gentle  manner  behind  him. 

"Good  land!"  exclaimed  his  aunt,  holding  up 
both  hands  in  horror.  "Such  spirit;  I  never  seen 
him  so  before,  never."  And  that  was  as  near  to 
an  open  compromise  as  was  ever  effected  between 
the  belligerents. 

At  the  supper  table  that  night  his  aunt  chided 
him  for  the  open  spirit  of  rebellion  he  had  shown 
when  Mr.  Southard  called  during  the  day,  saying 
that  during  their  talk  he  had  expressed  a  desire 
to  have  the  two  get  together  and  have  an  agree- 
ment to  be  good  friends  in  the  future.  "I'm  only 
a  boy,"  returned  Matt,  "but  I  ain't  no  ninny,  an' 
I  know  as  well  as  I  want  to  that  Ned  knows  he's 
wrong  an'  his  father  knows  he's  wrong,  else  he 
wouldn't  a  come  over;  'sides,  the's  been  talk  'bout 
going  to  the  squire  over  his  throwin'  me  in  the 
water.  'Twas  as  like  to  have  killed  me  as  not, 
but  the  talk  ain't  come  from  me  an'  won't.  All 
he's  got  to  do  is  walk  on  his  own  side  o'  the  road 
13  193 


FISHING   WITH   A   BOY 

an'  I  won't  pester  him  none.  If  he  don't,  he'll  git 
a  hidin',  an'  the's  more'n  one  pair  o'  hands  to 
help  me  do  it.  Mr.  Adams*  hired  man  ain't 
forgot  the  clout  o'  dirt  he  got  'longside  the  head, 
but,"  he  added,  as  if  to  confirm  his  promise,  "I 
ain't  startin'  nothin'.  The's  more  fear  o'  what 
the  law  might  do  a'count  o'  what  he's  done  to 
me  than  for  any  care  'bout  me  gettin'  hurt.  Mr. 
Adams  says  he  can  be  took  up  any  time  for 
'salt,'  but  I  don't  know  what  he  means." 

"Good  sakes.  Matt!  do  some  time  learn  to 
talk,"  said  the  aunt.  "What  Mr.  Adams  meant 
was  that  anybody  what  strikes  or  injures  another 
body  can  be  arrested  for  what  the  laws  call 
'asalt,'  "  and  so  the  weighty  matter  was  left  for 
Matt's  mind  to  conjure  with,  while  Aunt  Mary 
felt  duly  relieved.  She,  however,  particularly  re- 
minded him  that  he  had  best  not  start  more 
trouble  with  Southard  if  he  knew  what  was 
healthy  for  himself.  The  boy's  enterprises  were 
adding  so  materially  to  the  old  lady's  comforts 
that  while  she  still  kept  a  "tight  rein"  over  him, 
as  she  termed  it,  still  they  were  daily  becoming 
more  confidential,  and  what  previously  had  been 
strict  commands  from  the  elder  were  usually  dis- 
cussed between  them.  When  alone  the  lad  would 
slap  his  knee  as  was  his  custom,  as  if  confirming 
his  opinions  that  Aunt  Mary  was  "coniin'  'round 
some." 


194 


CHAPTER  XVI 

The  Leopard  of  the  Lake 

The  cooling  days  of  early  autumn  had  arrived, 
and  Matt  had  been  industriously  plying  his  vo- 
cation of  gathering  frogs,  and  found  they  were 
not  nearly  so  plentiful  as  earlier  in  the  season, 
and  he  also  realized  that  the  gathering  of  the 
crops  would  soon  begin  with  the  farmers,  and  he 
usually  had  considerable  work  among  them,  tak- 
ing corn  and  potatoes  as  pay.  While  he  would 
greatly  prefer  gathering  frogs  or  trapping,  still 
corn  and  potatoes  were  essentials,  and  he  would 
not  shirk  the  duty  when  the  time  arrived.  Al- 
ready he  had  spoken  to  two  farmers,  offering  his 
services,  so  there  was  plenty  of  work  in  line  for 
him. 

Aunt  Mary,  with  her  accustomed  prudence,  had 
been  stocking  their  larder  for  the  coming  winter 
with  such  commodities  as  could  be  safely  laid  in, 
and  a  full  barrel  of  flour  as  yet  unopened  stood 
in  the  corner  of  the  kitchen,  a  thing  which  the 
little  cottage  had  never  before  known.  Thanks 
also  to  Matt's  industry  and  good  fortune,  her 
purse  was  yet  far  from  empty. 

It  was  at  the  close  of  a  blustery  day.  Con- 
siderable rain  had  fallen  and  there  were  fitful 
gusts  of  wind  which  swept  the  vines  clambering 

195 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

about  the  little  porch,   now  this  way,  now  that, 
while  there  was  a  decided  chill  in  the  air. 

"Where  have  you  been  gallivantin'  now?"  said 
the  aunt  as  the  lad  came  into  the  house,  wet  and 
with  considerable  mud  clinging  to  his  shoes, 
which  roused  her  ire,  and  she  said  with  her  wonted 
sharpness,  "I  s'pose  the  scraper  outside  is  a 
orniment  an'  not  for  muddy  shoes." 

Matt  glanced  down  at  his  feet,  then  stepped  out- 
side and  was  soon  industriously  removing  the 
offending  mud;  then  he  removed  his  shoes  and 
dropped  them  in  the  shed  with  a  clatter,  and 
once  more  entering  the  kitchen  sat  down  by  the 
stove,  his  cap,  as  usual,  draped  to  one  side.  He 
seemed  buried  in  thought.  His  aunt,  accustomed 
to  these  moods,  said  no  more,  knowing  well  that 
when  the  time  seemed  auspicious  to  him  he  would 
unbosom  to  her  his  conclusions. 

For  a  long  time  he  sat  gazing  out  of  the  window. 
After  a  while  he  said:  "Mr.  Woodhull's  goin'  to 
send  me  some  steeltraps  when  he's  back  in  New 
York.  I  took  a  trip  along  the  brooks  an'  bogs, 
and  there's  lots  o'  mus'rats  this  year,  an'  I  seen 
some  mink  tracks,  too.  Fur'll  be  comin'  on  good 
time  huskin's  done.  A  dozen  traps  won't  cost 
heavy.    One  good  mink's  skin'll  about  pay  for  'em." 

"You're  a-goin'  to  be  in  the  schoolhouse  this 
winter,"  returned  the  aunt  firmly,  "an'  you  won't 
have  time  to  tend  to  traps  much.  I  want  you  to 
learn  to  read  an'  write  good.  You'll  be  called  a 
reg'lar  brook  loafer  next." 

196 


THE  LEOPARD  OF  THE  LAKE 

"Them  as  wants  to  let  'em,"  replied  Matt 
stoutly.  "Mr.  Adams  says  dollars  what  comes 
honest  is  all  right,  an'  I  d'know  but  what  mus'rat 
money's  good  as  any,  as  long  as  it  buys  what  we 
want;  'sides,  them  an'  minks  is  pests.  The's 
nights  an'  Sat'days  to  look  after  traps." 

"It's  you're  bein'  along  the  brook  an'  in  the 
woods  all  the  time  that  I  think  most  of,  with 
your  mind  only  on  such  things,"  responded  his 
aunt.  Matt  made  no  immediate  rejoinder,  but 
got  up  and  looked  earnestly  down  the  road,  and 
then  said:  "I  mos'  forgot  to  say  I  met  Mr.  Stil- 
well  to-day  an'  made  a  bargain  with  him  for  four 
loads  of  wood.  I  give  him  four  days  huskin'  an' 
help  him  cart  the  wood  when  we  want  it." 

Aunt  Mary  remained  silent  for  a  full  minute, 
then  asked:  "How  did  you  happen  to  think  of  the 
wood?" 

"Well,  I  had  sense  to  know  we  wanted  it  an'  I 
knowed  he  had  huskin'  to  do  an'  so  when  I  was 
loafin'  'long  the  brook  thinkin'  o'  nothin'  in  the 
rain  I  seen  him  in  his  meadow  lookin'  at  where 
the  mus'rats  had  been  diggin'  big  holes  all  over, 
an'  I  made  the  wood  bargain;  'sides,  he  is  to  give 
me  ten  cents  apiece  for  all  the  mus'rats  I  trap 
on  his  land." 

Aunt  Mary  looked  the  rebuke  she  felt  and  was 
framing  her  reply  when  a  knock  came  on  the  door. 
"It's  Mr.  i\dams,"  said  Matt.  "I  seen  him 
comin'." 

That  gentleman,  clad  in  rubber  clothing,  took 

197 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

a  seat,  after  receiving  a  warm  welcome  from  the 
aunt.  His  many  generous  acts  had  won  for  him 
a  warm  place  in  her  heart,  and  she  was  glad  of 
his  presence. 

"Mr.  Woodhull  is  going  back  to  the  city  in  a 
few  days,"  began  their  visitor,  after  some  com- 
monplaces, "and  I  will  soon  leave  on  a  business 
trip;  so  I  just  ran  down  from  the  store  to  see  how 
you  feel  about  trying  for  pickerel  to-morrow  if  it 
does  not  rain  too  hard.  The  water  is  cooling 
down  some,  and  if  the  weather  is  cloudy  all  the 
better."  Matt  sat  regarding  his  friend  intently 
for  fully  a  minute  before  making  reply,  then  asked 
in  his  quaint  way,  "Is  pickerel  pike,  Mr.  Adams?" 

"Well,"  he  replied,  "a  pickerel  is  a  pike,  but  a 
pike  is  not  a  pickerel,"  and  he  toyed  with  his 
watch  charm,  enjoying  to  the  fullest  the  puzzled 
look  on  the  boy's  face.  Matt  slid  down  deeper 
in  his  chair,  his  hands  clasping  both  knees,  while 
his  toe  played  abstractedly  with  the  hearth  of 
the  stove.  At  length  he  said,  "Unhook  me, 
please,  Mr.  Adams,  I've  balked." 

Aunt  Mary  and  Mr.  Adams  both  laughed  at 
the  drollery  of  the  remark,  and  the  gentleman 
then  said:  "The  pike  family  is  really  a  large  one 
and  embraces  many  important  species,  one  of 
which  is  the  pickerel,  which  can  easily  be  told  by 
its  greenish  color  and  chainlike  markings  along 
its  side.  It  is  found  east  of  the  Mississippi  River 
in  almost  all  streams,  and  is  a  good,  game  fish, 
frequently  reaching  the  weight  of  from  eight  to 

1 98 


THE  LEOPARD  OF  THE  LAKE 

ten  pounds,  while  its  cousin  of  northern  lakes  and 
rivers,  a  swift  and  hard-fighting  fish  called  the 
muskellunge,  often  reaches  the  weight  of  from 
thirty-five  to  forty  pounds." 

Aunt  Mary  was  deeply  interested  in  the  recital, 
and  Matt,  when  Mr.  Adams  quit  speaking,  said, 
"What'd  you  say  the  name  was?"  Mr.  Adams 
repeated  the  name,  giving  each  syllable  slowly, 
the  boy  repeating  it  under  his  breath,  as  could  be 
told  by  the  working  of  his  lips.  He  made  no 
further  comment  than  "Twice  as  big  as  my 
carp,  gosh!" 

The  following  day  proved  dark  and  heavy. 
Clouds  were  scurrying  across  the  sky  as  the 
three  started  for  the  old  factory  pond  about  five 
miles  to  the  westward.  It  was  a  famous  place 
for  pickerel,  as  the  pond  had  not  been  drawn 
down  for  many  years,  and  large  fish  were  reported 
to  be  had  among  the  great  patches  of  lily  pads 
at  the  head  of  the  stream. 

Matt,  as  usual,  sat  in  the  rear  of  the  wagon 
with  his  feet  swinging,  his  discerning  eye  taking 
in  every  object  within  range.  Minnows  were  in 
a  pail  near  the  lad,  and  had  been  taken  from  the 
creek  before  starting,  as  it  was  not  certain  that 
they  could  be  found  where  they  were  to  fish. 
Mr.  Adams  had  remarked  casually  that  he  in- 
tended trying  out  some  "plugs"  he  had  with  him, 
which  elicited  no  reply  from  the  lad.  He  merely 
cast  an  inquisitive  look,  remembering  the  "Lima 
bean"  episode. 

199 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

As  soon  as  a  boat  had  been  secured  the  boy  had 
gone  down  below  the  dam,  where  he  was  busily 
at  work  with  a  linen  thread  and  small  hook,  and 
soon  returned  with  several  "sunnies,"  which  he 
carelessly  tossed  into  the  boat  with  the  remark: 
"Their  bellies,  with  the  fins  left  on,  is  prime  for 
pike."  As  Mr.  VVoodhull  rowed  leisurely  toward 
the  head  of  the  pond,  Mr.  Adams  opened  a  tin 
box  containing  artificial  frogs,  as  well  as  sundry 
plugs,  spinners,  and  other  paraphernalia  entirely 
unknown  to  Matt.  For  a  few  minutes  he  gazed 
in  mute  wonder  at  the  display  and  then  asked 
bluntly,  "What's  them  things?" 

Mr.  Adams  explained  the  various  articles  and 
how  they  were  used,  none  of  which  seemed  to 
appeal  to  the  boy's  ideas  of  utihty  until  a  rather 
large  "phantom  minnow,"  with  its  green  back 
and  vari-colored  sides  was  brought  out.  He  ex- 
amined it  with  a  critical  eye,  turning  it  around 
and  back,  inspected  the  little  spinners  at  the  ends 
as  well  as  the  burrs  of  hooks  on  the  sides,  then 
said:  "She  looks  as  if  the's  some  sense  in  tryin' 
her  if  you  keep  her  goin'  plenty  an'  jerk  her  about." 
Regarding  the  plugs  he  said  nothing,  and  was  soon 
busy  arranging  his  line  and  hooks  to  his  liking. 

Both  sides  of  the  pond  were  lined  with  great 
patches  of  lily  pads  or  "spatterdock,"  as  it  was 
called,  and  it  was  well  up  to  the  head  of  the 
stream  and  between  two  patches  of  the  lily  pads 
that  they  made  their  rtrst  trial.  The  lad  and  Mr. 
WoodhuU  used  minnows,  placing  their  baits  well 

200 


THE  LEOPARD  OF  THE  LAKE 

up  to  the  edge  of  the  sheltering  pads,  while  Mr. 
Adams,  adjusting  one  of  the  incongruous-looking 
plugs,  and  with  the  help  of  the  reel  he  was  using, 
cast  well  over;  then  rapidly  retrieving  his  line  the 
lure  could  be  seen  darting  from  side  to  side  as  it 
approached  the  boat.  Matt  watched  it  eagerly, 
but  made  no  comment.  Several  times  Mr.  Adams 
cast  without  result,  and  was  changing  to  another 
type  when  Matt  grabbed  his  pole  with  the  quiet 
remark,  "There  she  goes,"  and  true  enough  his 
float  was  moving  rapidly  toward  the  pads  with 
long  dives,  until  it  finally  disappeared  entirely. 
Then  he  struck  and  hooked  his  fish,  and  after 
much  cutting  around  the  boat  Mr.  Woodhull 
slipped  the  net  under  a  fine  three-pound  fish. 

There  was  just  a  trace  of  triumph  in  the  lad's 
voice  when  he  said,  "I  guess  minnies  is  'bout  the 
thing  when  you  want  fish."  Mr.  Adams  had  put 
on  his  line  one  of  those  nondescript  affairs  with 
blunt  nose  and  brilliantly  painted  sides,  when  it 
caught  the  lad's  eye,  and  giving  it  a  quizzical  look 
he  simply  said,  "That's  worse  than  t'other  one." 

Standing  up  in  the  boat,  Mr.  Adams  made  a 
long  cast  over  the  stern  and  the  plug  landed  with 
a  splash  close  up  to  the  pads,  when  there  was 
another  splash,  followed  by  a  great  swirl,  and  the 
lure  was  sent  whirling  several  feet  over  the  water. 
Matt  gasped  and  Mr.  Adams  chuckled.  "That's 
on'y  pike  swearin',"  said  the  boy  as  soon  as  he 
could  command  words.  "He's  mad  at  seein'  the 
thing  an'  tried  to  knock  it  out  o'  the  pond." 

20I 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

It  was  such  whimsical  conceits  that  endeared 
the  lad  to  his  older  companions,  and  it  was  an 
asset  of  which  he  was  unaware. 

Try  as  he  would,  Mr.  /\dams  could  get  no  more 
rises  to  his  lure,  while  Mr.  Woodhull  and  Matt 
each  took  a  fish.  "Seems  'ough  it's  a  poor  day 
for  pluggin',  Mr.  Adams,"  said  Matt  with  a  giggle; 
"better  fish  with  somethin'  they  want." 

Mr.  Adams  made  no  reply,  but  seating  himself 
he  put  on  the  phantom  minnow  and  cast  over 
to  where  he  had  had  the  first  rise.  As  he  began 
taking  in  line  there  came  a  splash  and  whirl  in 
the  water  and  his  line  began  running  out  swiftly, 
while  his  rod  bent  and  swayed  under  the  impulses 
of  a  heavy  fish.  Matt  became  excited  as  the  line 
cut  swiftly  through  the  water,  and  was  worried, 
fearing  the  fish  would  get  among  the  roots  of  the 
plants  and  tear  loose,  but  there  was  a  hand  at  the 
rod  that  had  managed  many  such  fish,  and  while 
giving  full  play  to  the  quarry  in  open  water,  still 
he  managed  to  steer  it  clear  of  all  obstructions 
and  gradually  the  pliant  rod  brought  the  un- 
willing captive  nearer  the  boat  in  ever-narrowing 
circles. 

Matt  was  standing  ready  with  the  landing  net, 
his  own  rod  neglected  in  his  excitement.  "Keep 
back  the  net,"  said  Mr.  Adams,  as  the  fish  made 
a  rush  by  the  side  of  the  boat.  "Never  try  to  get 
a  fish  until  it  is  led  head  first  to  the  net,  because 
when  the  slightest  thing  touches  its  tail  it  is  sure 
to  spring  forward  and  is  very  liable  to  unhook." 

202 


THE  LEOPARD  OF  THE  LAKE 

Following  the  instructions  given,  the  net  was 
placed  directly  in  front  of  the  fish  on  its  next 
circle  and  was  deftly  lifted  into  the  boat,  much 
to  the  satisfaction  of  Mr.  Adams  and  the  joy  of 
the  lad,  who  fairly  shouted,  "Gee,  what  a  whopper 
pike!"  It  was  fully  five  pounds  in  weight  and 
beautifully  marked. 

"This  is  the  true  pickerel,"  observed  Mr. 
Adams,  "and  is  clearly  characterized  by  the  chain- 
like links  on  the  body,  usually  thirteen  in  number, 
on  the  center  line  from  the  gill  opening  to  the  tail. 
In  colonial  days  it  was  known  as  the  'Federation 
Pike,'  and  still  retains  that  title  in  some  local- 
ities. It  is  always  a  bully  among  its  fellows,  de- 
pending more  on  hiding  behind  some  cover, 
from  which  it  darts  out  and  seizes  its  prey,  than 
on  general  pursuit.  If  we  could  have  seen  this 
fellow  before  he  sampled  my  minnow  we  would 
have  found  him  with  body  well  behind  the  large 
roots  of  the  lily  pads  and  with  head  just  protrud- 
ing, watching  every  moving  object,  and  when  the 
splash  came  on  the  water  and  the  bait  began 
moving  away  his  curiosity  was  aroused  and  he 
struck." 

"He  was  a  plum  fool,"  said  the  irrepressible 
boy.  "The's  no  sense  as  I  can  see  in  grabbin' 
what  they  don't  know  is  good.  The's  no  taste 
nor  smell  to  that  thing." 

"Well,"  asked  Mr.  Woodhull,  "don't  you  some- 
times like  to  examine  things  you  don't  quite 
understand?" 

203 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

"I  suppose  I  do,"  was  the  answer,  "but  I  don't 

b-      >       >> 
ite  em. 

In  all,  ten  fish  were  taken  on  that  memorable 
afternoon,  and  all  of  good  size.  Matt  had  cleaned 
one  of  the  sunnies  and,  using  the  belly  with  fins 
on,  by  skittering  near  the  lily  pads  had  hooked 
and  landed  one  about  the  same  size  as  the  first 
one  he  took. 

"Seems  'ough  they'll  take  a'most  anything 
that's  movin',"  he  commented. 

"Yes,"  returned  Mr.  Adams,  "there  is  nothing 
safe  from  their  maws  that  is  small  enough  for  them 
to  master.  There  are  stories  going  about  that  are 
hard  to  believe  true  of  the  many  things  that  have 
been  found  in  their  stomachs.  Sure  it  is,  how- 
ever, that  young  ducks  are  not  exempt,  as  well 
as  many  other  objects.  They  have,  as  you  can 
see,  murderous  teeth  that,  once  set  fast,  are  hard 
to  release.  They  are  a  truly  game  fish,  and  are, 
in  their  way,  as  much  so  as  either  the  trout  or 
black  bass,  neither  of  which  are  in  these  streams. 

As  they  rowed  to  the  dam  to  make  their  start 
homeward  Mr.  Adams  insisted  on  putting  the 
large  fish  on  Matt's  string,  saying  as  he  did  so: 
"Someone  may  give  you  a  good  price  for  it;  any- 
way, you  will  have  a  beautiful  specimen  of  the 
'Leopard  of  the  Lake.'  " 


2  04 


CHAPTER  XVII 

Randolph  Jones 

Contemporaneous  with  the  boy  Matt  was 
Randolph  Jones,  a  tall,  gaunt  negro,  who  was 
known  far  and  near  as  "Randall,"  or  more  fre- 
quently as  "Uncle  Randall."  It  was  not,  how- 
ever, until  the  boy  was  nearing  man's  estate  that 
they  were  thrown  together  by  force  of  their  sur- 
roundings, and  the  negro  was  at  that  time  ap- 
proximately seventy-five  years  of  age,  active  and 
vigorous.  He  was  always  smoothly  shaven  and 
his  skin  ebony  black  and  possessed  of  very  prom- 
inent teeth.  From  my  earliest  recollection  he 
was  ever  complaining  of  the  misery  in  his  feet,  or, 
as  he  himself  frequently  termed  it,  "jest  nigger 
rheumatism;"  and  always  during  cold  weather  he 
had  his  feet  encased  in  burlap  or  other  coarse 
material.  Usually,  and  particularly  when  he 
knew  he  was  observed,  he  walked  with  a  most 
pronounced  hmp.  Not  that  many  believed  him 
seriously  afflicted,  however.  It  was  generally 
regarded  as  byplay,  at  which  he  was  an  adept,  to 
enlist  the  sympathies  of  the  credulous. 

The  two  could  not  in  any  sense  be  regarded  as 
companions,  as  Matt  lived  and  died  the  soul  of 
honor,  while  of  the  negro  as  much  could  not  be 
truthfully  told.     He  was  hailed  before  the  courts 

205 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

on  many  occasions  and  not  always  cleared  of  the 
charges  brought  against  him,  his  penchant  for 
neighborhood  chickens  being  his  mortal  weak- 
ness. It  is  rather  because  of  incidents  which  link 
their  histories  that  he  is  sketched  here,  and  not 
because  of  analogy  in  character. 

The  aged  negro  was  superlatively  supersti- 
tious, and  would  spin  ghost  stories  by  the  hour 
to  those  who  would  give  him  audience,  this  weak- 
ness being  the  cause  of  his  undoing  on  many 
occasions,  and  Matt,  with  his  penchant  for  fun, 
was  ever  ready  to  lend  a  hand  to  round  out  the 
enterprise. 

One  of  the  old  man's  antipathies  was  snapping 
turtles.  "They's  debbils  'ncarnat',''  he  would  ex- 
claim whenever  the  subject  was  mentioned  in 
his  presence.  "Nothin'  like  'em  is  fitten  to  eat; 
'sides,  dey's  tokens  o'  death  or  trouble  to  any 
what  meets  up  with  'em.  Yes,  sah,  when  de  good 
Lord  made  his  critters  he  suah  turned  snappin' 
turtles  ober  to  de  debbil  as  a  pester  to  folks  an' 
to  bring  us  warnin's." 

At  the  time  of  which  this  is  v/ritten  he  lived 
much  alone  in  his  little  home  of  two  downstairs 
rooms  and  an  attic,  his  wife  having  died  several 
years  previously.  His  children  were  married  and 
away,  excepting  one  daughter,  Hannah,  who 
would  pay  an  occasional  visit  to  the  old  home, 
straightening  up  affairs  in  the  house  and  making 
repairs  to  the  father's  clothing. 

He  kept  a  cow  and  some  chickens,  and  had  a 
206 


RANDOLPH  JONES 

really  choice  collection  of  fruits  on  his  little  lot, 
two  items  I  particularly  remember  being  quinces 
and  Bartlett  pears. 

His  time  was  spent  mostly  among  the  farmers 
of  the  neighborhood,  for  despite  his  age,  he  was 
a  good  hand  at  most  kinds  of  farm  work,  and  at 
tree  grafting  he  was  really  an  expert  and  was  fre- 
quently called  to  considerable  distances  to  do 
such  work. 

On   one  occasion   while  at  work   for   a  Judge 

B ,  who  owned  a   beautiful   farm,   he   asked 

permission  to  take  home  a  pail  of  bran  to  make 
"slop"  for  his  cow,  as  he  termed  it.  The  request 
was  granted,  and  the  pail  was  duly  returned,  with 
thanks,  the  following  morning.  After  a  few  days 
the  same  request  was  made  and  readily  granted, 
and  all  seemed  well.  However,  on  the  third  re- 
quest, after  he  had  put  the  bran  in  the  pail  and 
was  entering  the  house  for  his  supper,  the  judge, 
either  through  accident  or  design,  tipped  the  pail 
over  on  the  brick  walk  on  which  it  was  resting, 
when,  lo,  out  rolled  ten  or  twelve  eggs.  The  old 
darkey  seemed  as  surprised  as  anyone  and  ex- 
claimed in  the  most  matter-of-fact  way:  "It's 
s'prisin',  it's  mos'  s'prisin',  Jedge,  how  them  aigs 
could-a  bin  in  that  pail  an'  1  not  seein'  'em  when 
I  dumped  in  the  bran."  Needless  to  say,  the  old 
cow  went  without  her  "slop"  that  night  and 
Uncle  Randall  minus  his  "aigs." 

On  another  occasion  when  hailed  before  the 
court   on    the   charge   of   taking   undue   liberties 

207 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

with  a  farmer's  flock  of  hens,  the  presiding  judge 
said  sternly:  "Randolph  Jones,  you  are  here 
charged  with  stealing  chickens  from  the  farm  of 

Mr.  D .    Are  you  guilty  or  not  guilty?"    The 

darkey,  with  his  usual  imperturbability,  looked 
around  the  courtroom  for  some  seconds,  then  re- 
plied stoutly:  "Jedge,  I  jest  can't  say  'til  1  hears 
some  ev'dence."  For  years  this  unique  plea  was 
a  byword  through  the  community  and  is  still  well 
remembered  by  many. 

Came  a  very  warm  day  during  an  extraordi- 
narily early  spring.  Nature  seemed  exerting  her- 
self to  give  premature  birth  to  her  infinitude  of 
bud  and  leaf.  The  icewater  had  long  since  run 
off  through  the  creeks,  and  a  monstrous  mother 
snapping  turtle  was  slowly  wandering  along  a 
sandy  meadow  wash,  doubtless  seeking  a  suitable 
place  to  deposit  her  round,  white  eggs,  to  be 
hatched  weeks  later  by  the  warm  rays  of  the  sun. 
Suddenly  she  stopped  and  emitted  a  sharp  hissing 
sound,  then  relaxing  the  muscles  of  her  short, 
stubby  legs,  lay  with  head  partially  drawn  into 
the  capacious  shell,  her  small,  beady  eyes  watch- 
ing the  movements  of  two  men  who  had  invaded 
her  domain.  "Hey,  Matt!"  exclaimed  the  elder 
of  the  two,  "here's  one  of  Uncle  Randall's  pets." 
When  Matt's  eyes  rested  on  the  find  he  gave 
vent  to  his  usual  "Gee!"  followed  by,  "Aint  she 
a  whopper.^  What  a  pot  of  soup!"  At  this  season 
of  the  year  these  animals  are  at  their  best,  and 
when  properly  prepared  are  really  delicious  eating. 

208 


RANDOLPH  JONES 

The  turtle,  suspended  from  a  stout  stick  car- 
ried by  the  men,  disappeared  across  the  meadow, 
when,  on  reaching  a  fence  which  had  some  stout 
wire  supports,  a  "bridle"  was  made  by  deftly 
slipping  a  portion  of  the  wire  between  the  jaws 
of  the  captive,  then  bending  it  backward  and 
twisting  it  tightly  beneath  the  carapace  just 
above  the  tail,  all  was  rendered  harmless  from 
attack  by  its  murderous  jaws. 

Just  at  dusk  the  following  day  the  two  mis- 
chievous men  crept  silently  through  Uncle  Ran- 
dall's garden,  carrying  between  them  a  wide 
board  on  which  reposed  the  turtle,  rendered  harm- 
less by  the  wire  bridle  and  tied  securely  to  the 
piece  of  board.  On  the  creature's  back  just  above 
the  head  was  a  gourd,  cut  with  grinning  features 
like  a  Halloween  pumpkin,  which  was  securely 
fastened  by  means  of  wires  and  strings  to  the  shell. 
Inside  the  stub  end  of  a  candle  reposed  in  a  short 
socket,  needing  only  the  quick  application  of  a 
match  to  bring  into  sharp  outline  the  repulsive 
features.  A  window  in  the  rear  of  the  building 
was  raised  and  their  burden,  after  releasing  it 
from  the  board,  was  deposited  inside,  after  which 
one  of  the  men  climbed  inside  to  await  a  signal 
to  be  given  by  the  other  from  the  near-by  bushes. 
They  well  knew  the  old  man's  habits  of  staying 
for  supper  where  he  worked,  and  so  timed  their 
operations.  In  due  course  the  cry  of  a  whip- 
poor-will  from  Matt  behind  the  bushes  caused  the 
match  to  be  applied  to  the  candle  by  his  confed- 
1*  209 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

erate  inside,  after  which  he  dropped  quickly  from 
the  window  and  quietly  lowering  it  awaited  de- 
velopments from  a  near-by  vantage  point.  They 
both  well  knew  the  restless  habits  of  the  turtle, 
and  had  no  fear  but  it  would  move  toward  the 
door  as  soon  as  it  might  be  opened. 

The  old  negro  came  shuffling  along  the  path, 
entirely  unconscious  of  the  apparition  awaiting 
him.  Pushing  open  the  door,  his  attention  was 
at  once  riveted  on  the  light,  which  plainly  re- 
vealed the  character  of  the  bearer,  which  was 
crawling  directly  toward  him  and  exhibiting  the 
grinning  monstrosity  to  full  advantage.  For  a 
moment  the  old  man  stood  as  if  petrified,  then 
whirling  about  with  a  "Lor'  A'mighty,  it's  come!" 
went  down  the  path  like  a  cyclone,  without  clos- 
ing the  door  behind  him,  while  his  tormentors, 
rolling  on  the  ground  in  paroxysms  of  laughter, 
could  plainly  hear  his  rapid  footbeats  down  the 
road,  his  "nigger  rheumatism"  forgotten  or  totally 
disregarded  for  the  period.  The  nearest  family, 
living  perhaps  a  quarter  of  a  mile  distant,  had 
just  concluded  their  evening  meal,  and  had  not 
yet  risen  from  the  table  when,  with  a  bound, 
Uncle  Randall  came  into  their  midst,  his  eyes 
rolling,  and  breathless.  When  words  could  be 
found  by  the  startled  people  he  was  asked  to 
explain  his  antics.  For  several  minutes  he  was 
unable  to  make  reply,  weaving  back  and  forth 
and  trembling  like  an  aspen. 

He  finally  settled  into  a  chair  and  in  broken 
210 


RANDOLPH  JONES 

sentences  wailed:  "01'  Satan  have  at  las'  sent 
for  de  ol'  man.  His  mes'nger  am  here.  Hit's  no 
use,  de  token  am  come,"  and  he  rocked  back  and 
forth,  moaning  pitifully  in  his  terror.  A  little  at 
a  time  what  he  had  seen  was  coaxed  from  him. 
"It  was  an  ol'  he  snappin'  turkle  mos'  as  big  as 
a  door,"  he  chattered,  "an'  all  lit  up  with  a 
grinnin'  debbil  a-settin'  on  its  back.  Ah  kin 
neber  go  back  to  de  ol'  home,  neber."  When  some 
coherency  of  the  story  was  gained  the  men  began 
making  ready  to  go  down  to  the  house  and  see 
for  themselves,  if  possible,  the  cause  of  the  old 
man's  trepidation.  "No,  sah,  no,  sah;  not  dis 
night  do  I  go,"  when  asked  to  accompany  them, 
was  his  reply.  "Wid  a  he  token  turtle  rampagin' 
'round?  Not  me."  He  was  but  little  composed 
when,  after  a  half  hour's  absence,  the  men  re- 
turned and  told  him  there  was  no  sign  of  what 
had  so  frightened  him  to  be  found.  "It's  right  in 
de  room,  lessen  it's  gone  to  han't  some  other 
body,"  he  returned. 

It  was  quite  a  month  before  Uncle  Randall 
could  be  induced  to  spend  a  night  in  his  old 
home,  preferring  rather  to  sleep  in  barns  or  other 
outbuildings  than  to  chance  a  meeting  with  the 
"token  turkle"  again,  and  during  the  balance  of 
his  life  he  ever  spoke  of  the  matter  as  his  "ter- 
rifyin'  sperience." 

It  was  at  first  thought  by  the  neighbors  that 
the  whole  story  was  pure  figment,  conjured  up 
in  the  brain  of  the  aged  negro.     But  as  they  were 

211 


FISHING  WITH  A   BOY 

later  on  enlightened  to  some  extent  by  Matt  and 
his  companion,  they  realized  that  there  were 
some  grounds  for  the  story,  particularly  as  his 
deep-seated  fear  and  hatred  of  turtles  was  well 
known. 

One  of  his  experiences  which  he  would  relate 
with  much  gusto  was  how  at  one  period  of  his 
life  he  was  the  only  colored  man  living  in  that 
township,  and  having  some  relatives  about  to 
visit  him,  he  had  them  invite  some  friends;  so 
there  was  quite  a  little  gathering  at  the  old  home. 

All  went  smoothly  until  in  the  evening  two  of 
the  women  folks  went  out  to  the  shallow  well  in 
the  back  yard,  which  was  not  more  than  eight 
feet  deep,  and  never  contained  more  than  two 
feet  of  water,  when  frantic  cries  for  help  arose, 
supplemented  with,  "Hi,  dere!  we'se  in  de  well!" 
Of  course  a  rush  to  their  assistance  was  instan- 
taneous, when  one  after  another  of  the  darkies 
would  disappear  from  view,  followed  by  wails 
from  those  who  had  preceded  them  as  the  latest 
arrivals  landed  on  their  heads.  The  solution  of 
the  mystery  was  that  some  one  had,  when  evening 
came  on,  moved  the  frail  curbing  back  just  far 
enough  to  leave  the  well  opening  exposed,  so  that 
any  one  approaching  the  curb  would  step  directly 
into  the  well.  All  were  extricated  in  due  time 
without  serious  injury,  and  in  telling  of  it  the  old 
man  would  chuckle  and  rub  his  knees,  usually 
winding  up  with:  "I  reckon  I'm  dc  on'y  man 
what  ever  ketched  a  well  full  o'  niggers  at  one 

212 


RANDOLPH  JONES 

time  'thout  bait."  No  one  ever  knew  who  moved 
that  curb  on  that  eventful  evening,  but  Matt, 
on  being  questioned  many  times  in  relation  to  it, 
always  denied  any  part  in  the  plot,  generally  con- 
cluding with:  "Gee!  what'd  I  do  a  thing  like  that 
for?    They  were  all  strangers  to  me." 

As  age  increased  his  infirmities  the  old  man 
spent  much  of  his  time  along  the  creeks,  fishing 
and  doing  a  Httle  trapping.  He  was  always  glad 
to  find  the  now  mature  Matt,  to  whom  he  would 
relate  over  and  over  his  "  'speriences"  with  un- 
canny things,  always  winding  up  with  his  night 
of  terror  over  the  "turkle  what  was  all  lit  up  for 
a  token."  He  had  a  pecuHar  habit  of  never  going 
to  the  store,  which  was  something  over  a  mile 
distant,  without  trundling  a  wheelbarrow,  and  a 
certain  little  brown  jug  holding  about  a  quart 
was  to  be  seen  among  its  effects;  and  yet  he  was 
never  seen  unduly  under  the  effects  of  liquor, 
cheap  and  plentiful  as  it  was  in  those  days. 

He  was  fairly  proficient  with  the  violin,  and 
nothing  pleased  him  more  than  to  have  white 
folks  call  and  ask  for  a  tune,  which  was  usually 
met  with  the  excuse  that  the  "ol'  fiddle  was  not 
gwine  jest  as  good  as  he  would  laik,"  but  he  would 
try  "jest  once  mo';"  and  after  a  prelude  of  tuning 
up  would  swing  into  "Money  Musk,"  and  other 
old-time  melodies,  his  aged  body  swaying  in 
unison  with  the  tune,  while  his  "misery  foot" 
kept  time  on  the  bare  floor. 

He  eventually  became  a  town  charge,  and  was 
213 


FISHING  WITH   A   BOY 

totally  blind  long  before  death  finally  came. 
In  the  autumn  preceding  his  death  the  writer, 
learning  where  he  was,  called  to  see  him  where 
he  was  being  boarded.  He  was  pitifully  ema- 
ciated, and  as  before  stated,  totally  blind;  but 
his  mentahty  was  not  in  the  least  impaired,  and 
he  at  that  time  dwelt  on  many  of  the  incidents 
related  in  this  sketch.  He  was  buried  from  a 
house  not  more  than  a  mile  from  where  this  is 
being  written,  and  stoutly  maintained  that  he 
was  one  hundred  and  seven  years  of  age.  His 
daughter  Hannah,  however,  who  had  a  generous 
education  and  had  kept  careful  watch  over  the 
old  man's  destinies,  gave  his  age  at  one  hundred 
and  three  years. 


214 


Jimerica's  Greatest  Publisher  of  outdoor 
books  offers  you  these   interesting  Books 

"COIN"  FISHIN'  ■•     By  Dixie  Carroll 

Author  of  "Lake  and  Stream  Game  Fishing"  and  "Fishing  Tackle 
and  Kits."  Introduction  by  Maj.  Gen.  Leonard  Wood.  A  new 
book  for  the  every  now-and-then  fisherman  as  well  as  the  expert 
angler.  Many  illustrations  from  photographs.  No  angler's  library 
complete  without  it.    Large  IZmo.    Silk  Cloth.    Net,  $3.00. 

FISHING  TACKLE  AND  KITS.     By  Dixie  Carroll 

Author  of  "Lake  and  Stream  Game  Fishing"  and  "Goin"  FIshin'." 
Essentially  a  practical  book.  How,  when  and  where  to  fish  and 
right  kind  of  tackle  for  all  angles  of  fishing  for  the  fresh  water 
game  fishes.  Many  illustrations  from  photographs.  Colored  cover 
jacket.    Large  12mo.    Silk  Cloth.    Net,  $3.00. 

LAKE  AND  STREAM  GAME  FISHING.  By  Dixie  Carroll 

Author  of  "Goin'  Fishin'  "  and  "Fishing  Tackle  and  Kits."  A 
practical  book  on  popular  fresh  water  game  fish,  the  tackle  neces- 
sary, and  how  to  use  it,  written  in  a  Pal-to-Pal  style  from  actual 
fishing  experiences.  Many  illustrations  from  photographs.  Colored 
cover  jacket.    Large  IZmo.    Silk  Cloth.     Net,  $3.00. 

THE  IDYL  OF  THE  SPLIT-BAMBOO. 

By  Geo.  Parker  Holden 

Author  of  "Streamcraft" — with  Foreword  by  Dr.  Henry  van  Dyke. 
A  valuable  addition  to  the  practical  Hterature  of  angling.  This 
splendid  volume  deals  with  the  construction  of  the  Split- Bamboo 
Rod  in  a  way  as  distinctively  as  "Streamcraft"  occupies  its  special 
field.    Elaborately  illustrated.  12mo.    Handsomely  bound.    Net,  $3,00. 

STREAMCRAFT,  An  Angling  Manual. 

By  Dr.  Geo.  Parker  Holden 

This  deals  with  the  selection,  care,  and  rigging  of  the  rod;  the  art 
of  casting;  trout  habits;  lures  and  their  use,  including  stream  ento- 
mology. Ten  full-page  illustrations  showing  Flies  in  their  natural 
colors,  and  numerous  black  and  whites.  Colored  cover  jacket.  16mo. 
Silk  Cloth.     Net,  $2.50. 


Stewart  J^idd  c^ncln^nVA 


America's  Greatest  Publisher  of  outdoor 
books  offers  you   these  interesting  Books 

COMPLETE  DOG  BOOK,  By  Dr.  Wm.  A.  Bruelte 

Being  the  history,  general  characteristics,  peculiarities,  care,  feeding 
breaking  and  breeding  of  ninety-two  varieties  of  Dogs  common  to 
Amen,  a  and  Great  Britain.  By  an  authority  of  international  rep- 
utation.   Large  12mo.      Elaborately  illustrated.    Colored  cover  jacket. 

BASS.  PIKE.  PERCH  AND  OTHER  GAME    FISHES 
OF  AMERICA.  By  James  A.  Henshall,  M.D. 

Author  of  "Book  of  the  Black  Bass."  The  most  comprehensive 
book  on  American  game  fishes  published.  Describes  in  detail  ninety 
species  and  varieties  of  game  fish.  Many  illustrations  and  frontis- 
piece atid  cover  jacket  in  color.    Large  IZmo.    Silk  Cloth.    Net,  $3.00. 

BOOK  OF  THE  BLACK  BASS  AND  MORE  ABOUT 
THE  BLACK  BASS.  By  James  A.  Henshall,  M.D. 

This  is  a  complete  treatise  on  Bass,  containing  not  only  advice  as 
to  the  methods  of  angling,  but  also  a  scientific  histoo'  of  the  species. 
The  greatest  book  of  its  kind  published.  140  illustrations.  Hand- 
some three-colored  cover  jacket.     12mo.     Silk  Cloth.     Net,  $3.00. 

CASTING  TACKLE  AND  METHODS.     By  0.  W.  Smith 

Fishing  Editor  of  "Outdoor  Life"  and  author  of  "Trout  Lore." 
The  author  has  endeavored  to  embody  not  only  the  accumulated 
wisdom  of  forty  years  of  angling,  but  also  to  draw  upon  the  ex- 
perience of  well-known  angling  experts.  A  valuable  book  for  both 
the  old-timer  and  the  amateur.  Elaborately  illustrated.  Large  IZmo. 
Silk  Cloth.     Net,  $3.00. 

THE  COMPLEAT  ANGLER.     By  Izaak  Walton 

This  "Fisherman's  encyclopedia  of  Happiness"  bids  fair  to  become 
the  standard  exquisite  edition  of  Walton's  great  Classic.  Sixteen 
full-page  illustrations  in  color  by  James  H.  Thorpe.  Handsomely 
bound.  Large  4to.  Cloth.  Net,  $3.50.  Three-fourths  Turkey  Mo- 
rocco.    Net.  $15.00. 


Steivart  K^dd  cTny^niVA 


GENERAL  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA— BERKELEY 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or  on  the 

date  to  which  renewed. 

Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


LD  21-1007nl, '54(1887816)476 


